


The Human Experience

by IrishBabby



Category: The Strain (TV), The Strain Trilogy - Guillermo del Toro & Chuck Hogan
Genre: Alternate Fourth Season, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, F/M, Liudmyla Fet, Mutual Pining, Shit to Live for And Shit to Kill for, Slow Burn for Vasiliy and Dutch, Sobriety, Third season, recovering addict, vampire lore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2018-11-08 09:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 38
Words: 142,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11079135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishBabby/pseuds/IrishBabby
Summary: Myla Fet hasn't seen her brother in over two years. Old family wounds must be reopened as they join together to take on the plague that has nearly destroyed New York City.Everyone is stronger as a team. That's something Myla and Vasiliy Fet will have to learn, it won't be easy when ancient books and tall tales turn out to be true.





	1. The Lumen

**Church of the Good Shepherd:  
Roosevelt Island, Manhattan**

* * *

Vasiliy Fet had been trying to keep himself from being distracted. Since the start of this plague, several things had weighed heavily on him. He worked hard every day to be helpful... to save lives. But every so often his mind would wander to memories of his family. He would even replay the final conversation he had with his father almost on a daily basis. Sadly, Vasiliy could remember every argument they’d ever had.

“ _My son quits school to hunt rats? What kind of job is that? What kind of life is that?”_

Well... Vasiliy guessed it wasn't much of a life now.

Vasiliy fiddled with his jacket as he got out of the car. He noticed the cold wind was warmer than his father had ever been to him. Vasiliy has spent years trying to please him, but in the end he had been rejected... _by everyone_. Vasiliy often wondered if his father had taken his advice and fled the city. The same day Vasiliy had called his sister and left her a message to see if she could talk some sense into him.

But Vasiliy had never heard from any of them... _but it wasn't any different from the last two years._

Vasiliy pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind. Tonight was important, and he didn't need any distractions, as he knew in all likelihood the professor was bound to get them both killed. Vasiliy figured it was a good idea to focus on making sure that didn’t happen.

_"We will possess the Lumen by any means necessary, whether be buy it, or fight for it, we will die to try." Abraham had told him._

_"Let's try to avoid that third option, yeah?" Vasily has told him in the car ride over. "I kinda like my head."_

_"And I assure you, I quite like mine." the professor had snipped back._

The old man was determined, that was for sure.

Vasiliy began to worry about the return journey to the city. If this ended after dark, munchers were sure to come after them, Vasiliy didn't believe this transaction would go unnoticed by the Master.

They  were ushered into the church by several armed men and inside they were greeted by Alonso Creem.

"Welcome professor, I'm glad to see you made it. It's gonna be a good time." Alonso flashed them a silver smile. "First I'm gonna have to ask that you and your friend here check all your weapons at the door. You'll get 'em back after we're done."

Alonso's men were well armed, and as Vasily and the Professor reluctantly gave up their weapons. They were offered him a glass of champagne, Vasiliy would be damned if he was going to trade in his piece of rebar for a fluted glass.

"A drink, professor?" Alonso asked.

"No thank you," Abraham said, clearly unenthused by Alonso's excitement. Neither Vasiliy or Setrakian cared for people who could stand to watch the world burn just so they could be rich. 

"Alright, I'ma have one for you," Alonso said as he put down an empty glass to pick up another. "I'm gonna ask that you verify your funds right over here with Myla. And uh - good luck to you professor." Alonso moved away from the desk, revealing the woman sitting behind him.

Vasiliy wasn't quite sure what to think when the professor handed over their account information to the raven-haired girl behind the desk. Vasiliy's eyes grew wide with disbelief, how could this even be possible? This girl had been on his mind every day since the shit hit the fan. But to see her now and in the flesh... _his mind was trying to convince him it was someone else._

 _"Myla."_ He whispered low enough that no one could hear him.

She looked well. At least she looked better than when he had last seen her. Vasiliy couldn't believe it was her, but there was that damn tattoo on her left shoulder, that small white dove would always remind him of her. She looked like she had put back on a healthy weight. She had let her dark hair grow long like she used to when she was a kid, her blue eyes reminded him of their mother. She looked good... _she looked happy._

But what the hell was she doing here, in Roosevelt Island of all places?

Vasiliy continued to stare as he watched her whisper into the receiver, Myla gave Alonso a nod that their funds were available. Great, that checked out - Vasiliy wanted to get on with the transaction, but then he heard the doors open and his heart sank. Alonso's men lifted their weapons.

"Who's this guy?" Alonso asked as Eichorst entered the chapel. The thin man confidently strode into the room, glancing at Strakian with pride.

"We're going to need to see your weapons." Alonso's men said as they converged on him.

"I don't have any weapons," Eichorst said playfully putting his hands up so the men could inspect him.

"And who are you?" Alonso asked.

"I am Thomas Eichorst, I am Mr. Palmer's emissary. I will be bidding in his place."

Alonso looked the Nazi up and down. Alonso was obviously pleased with the price value of Eichorst's suit. "If you've got gold, you can bid. Just uh - register your funds right over there." Alonso said shrugging his shoulders.

"Of course," Eichorst said with a grin.

Vasiliy watched as Eichorst handed Myla his account information, and in that moment a distasteful shiver ran down Vasiliy's spine as the German touched her skin. Vasiliy was protective, and Eichorst's vicinity to Myla was sending off an alarm in his head.

"Here is my account information, which all will be verified," Eichorst said.

Myla picked up the phone again to verify the German's funds.

"Where is Palmer?" Abraham asked.

"This transaction is far too important, so it is I who will have the honor of acquiring the Lumen. Isn't it ironic that our duel shall not end with a fight but a simple transaction of gold." Eichorst turned his attention to the Professor, the Nazi wore a snake-like smile.

"I assure you our duel shall end with a transaction in silver... seeing as how the Master passed you over for Bolivar. Does it hurt to be bound by loyalty to one so unimpressed by you?" Setrakian scolded. His words seemed to strike a nerve nestled somewhere within Eichorst's stinger.

"Does it not pain you to tally all the things I've taken from you already, Jew?" he retorted.

"You are a vile creature, Eichorst." Setrakian spat.

"If it were up to me, I would drain you dry, and then snap your neck... but alas the Master has plans for you yet. Turning you will bring you to become a part of something you've fought so long against."

"Never!" Setrakian spat. "I will release you to die, like the soulless appendage you are." 

Vasiliy slipped in between them, "I'm pretty sure he's right. It's too bad all these guys are watchin' us, cause I'm dying to stick a piece of rebar in your right ear and watch it come out your left." He was focused on not letting Eichorst come between the professor, or near Myla for that matter. Vasiliy was even afraid to confront her now that Eichorst had entered the room. He didn't want to give the creature a reason to go after Myla... just like he had with Dutch.

Alonso was given the go ahead and now Vasiliy had turned around to find that Myla's was looking at him. She must have recognized his accent, she finally lifted her gaze off her desk, and now she was looking at him. And she looked... relieved. Vasiliy knew he at least felt a part of himself relax, at least, as much as he could when he was in the same room as Thomas Eichorst. She gave him a slight smile, and Vasiliy gave her a look that told her there could be danger.

"Your banks have agreed to convert your funds into gold based upon the current exchange rate. Highest dollar value bid wins.” Alonso said practically grinning. “Now what number should I start at-"

"Five Million," Abraham said interrupting the man. Abraham was eager to start the bidding, but who knew how long the Ancient's gold would hold out.

"Five it is." Alonso grinned.

"Ten Million." Came Eichorst's bid.

"Fifteen!"

"Do I hear twenty?" Alonso asked, his silver smile was becoming bigger after each bid.

"Thirty."

"Fifty."

"Alright um, I'm gonna have to catch my breath here," Alonso said, this time his grin was from ear to ear. He took a sip of champagne as the two men continued to clamor over the book. But they kept bidding anyway.

"One-Hundred Million."

"Two-Hundred."

"Three hundred million!" Setrakian nearly yelled.

"Hold up.” Alonso’s heart was beating rapidly, he’d never made this much money before in just a matter of minutes. “I propose that the man with the most gold will win this book for exactly one dollar more than the losing bid. Deal?"

"Agreed," Abraham said.

“Agreed,” Eichorst said.

"Myla, if you'd please," Alonso asked.

Myla nodded. She glanced at Vasiliy as she picked up the receiver. She wasn’t sure how the hell Vasiliy had over three hundred million dollars to bid with. She had seen the book before when Alonso had returned it to the safe. Myla knew the cover was made of silver, but not three hundred million dollars worth of silver. What the hell was Vasiliy doing?

Myla patiently waited, stealing glances at her brother as she waited for the Swiss tellers to inform her of the balance from each account.

"Yes, I have the max amounts." She said, looking to Vasiliy and then back to Alonso.

"Start with Mr. Setrakian here." Alonso pointed to the frail-looking man.

"Mr. Setrakian's account will allow... _yes, mmhmm._ Three-hundred and twenty-three million dollars." Myla said.

"Shit. 323 Mil?” Alonso took in a deep breath. “ This must be some kinda book." he looked back to gaze at the silver façade. For a moment part of Alonso wanted to know why the book was worth so much. But then he remembered it's price tag... and those questions faded away. "And the German?"

"Three-hundred and fifty-one point eight million," Myla said with a solemn sound to her voice. She looked at Vasiliy with apologetic eyes.

"Sold! To the German for 323 million and one dollars. Sorry professor, I was really rooting for you on this one.” Alonso finished his glass of champagne, “ Transfer those funds to my account right-fuckin now. And gimme that damn book."

The German looked to his left and with that sly smile still on his face, "It's over now Abraham. Nothing can stop him."

Myla heard the German's words, and she saw the look on her brother's face. _'Nothing can stop him.'_ Shit - if Vasiliy had a chance at stopping all this and that book could help, Myla wasn't going to sit idly. Vasiliy looked at her again, and he watched her drag her pinky finger over the open lines on the phone. Vasiliy watched stunned as she clicked one off - the line going dead.

Vasiliy watched the gears turning in Myla's head. _"She didn't..." Vasiliy thought._ Vasiliy shook his head this time more concerned about her safety than the damn book.

“Could you place it in a canvas bag for me?” Eichorst asked.

“Hell. For three hundred and twenty-three mil. I’ll gift wrap the damn thing.” Alonso said.

"Alonso,” Myra said interrupting, “I uh- I'm sorry, but Mr. Eichorst’s privileges on this gold account have been revoked. They won’t allow me to transfer the funds."

"What?" Alonso asked. He gave his shoulders a shrug, he didn't care, he wasn't out any money anyway. "Sorry day for the German then. I guess you win after all professor."

"No, I assure you, this is a mistake,” Eichorst said taking a step towards Myla. “Allow me to rectify this mistake, I will talk to the bank and get this error sorted out."

“I’m sorry, but they’ve disconnected me,” Myla stated. She saw the German man look at her, his eyes angry.

"Sorry, but 323 mil is 323 mil." Alonso said, this time stepping towards Eichorst. Setrakian gratefully accepted the book from Alonso. Eichorst only became more furious once he saw the book in Setrakian's hands.

Vasiliy stepped up to Myla’s desk as Eichorst grabbed Alonso's lapels and his stinger began to rattle. Several men with guns were able to get Eichorst to submit... but the sun was going down, Eichorst knew he had the night on his side. Vasiliy knew there wasn't much time.

Vasiliy grabbed her by the elbow, pulling her from her chair. "We have to leave. Now!" he told her. Myla grabbed the bag slung across the back of the chair and nodded. She followed Vasiliy as they grabbed their weapons and retreated to daylight. Myla was immediately cold, she hadn't had the time to get her coat.

Myla hopped in the truck and took a seat in the back. The professor gave Fet a curious look.

"Who is this?" Setrakian asked, seemingly irritated.

"Old friend," Fet answered. Vasiliy quickly turned on the truck, keeping an eye out for the German - he expected the man to appear any minute, but he didn't. When the engine roared to life, Vasiliy stepped on the gas and headed back into town. There was no way in hell they were going to make it back in time.

“We just need to get to the damn bridge.” Vasiliy was thinking of his flat in Red Hook... but if they were going to be followed. He couldn’t blow their cover.

"Mr. Fet, I know we are in a hurry, but if you keep accelerating at this rate we will roll over the first turn you take."

"Don't mind him, he's always had a bit of a lead foot," Myla said from the back of the truck.

"Wanna explain what the hell you're doing in New York?" Vasiliy asked her.

"You. Mostly," she said.

"Mostly? What does that mean."

"Mr. Fet maybe you should drive first, talk later."

"Yeah and just why the hell am I racing to get back to the city when you don't have any sense to call some backup? Those ancient munchers outta have connections and shit. Why not use 'em?"

"Mr, Fet I regret that I have kept some things from you, I do not intend to give the Lumen to the ancients,” Setrakian admitted with confidence. "

"Well, you coulda told me that part professor. It’s not like I’m--“

 _CRASH_.

The truck was hit, pivoting slightly off course. Both Vasiliy and the professor looked at one another. Dusk had been upon them for less than a minute. The truck fishtailed, pinning itself against a grate and the vehicle that had struck them.

“There are no belts back here!” Myla said as she picked herself up off the truck's floor.

“Well, you better hold on tight,” Vasiliy said. "We got a whole bunch of munchers coming, and I'm not waitin' around!"

Fet punched the gas. But they weren’t moving.

"Rock it!" Myla yelled.

Both Vasiliy and the professor stared down at the horde of Strigoi running towards them. Vasiliy hit the gas again. Then let off, then punched it, taking Myla's advice.

“Come on… come on!”

The truck sprang free at the last possible moment, but Strigoi were throwing themselves onto the truck, trying to feed on them through the vehicle's barred windows. Setrakian shot a few nails through at their attackers, just as the truck sprang free. They felt a sense of relief as the truck drove over a few bodies, but the feeling was short-lived, they had only made it to the end of the street before they came across another horde of Strigoi and more trucks to stop them.

“Shit, Go, professor!” Fet said.

Setrakian slipped into the back surprised to see Myla already holding two guns, at least the girl seemed useful.  They both felt the truck rock, they could hear feet on the roof, they were going to get in, it was only a matter of time. Fet joined them in the back of the truck. He looked worried. They all knew this was going to be it.

“Sorry to go out so soon like this, kid,” Vasiliy told her as he placed a hand on her shoulder. They had never had a great relationship... something that Vasiliy had always wanted to rectify. But it looked like he wasn't going to get that chance. 

Myla gave Vasiliy a quick embrace, “We’re not dead yet.” she told him.

“Yes, let’s not make this easy on them.” Setrakian nodded.

Vasiliy opened several small side gates to the truck as the three of them unloaded bullets into whatever they could see.

Then shots were heard from outside. Myla looked at the strigoi now paying attention to the gunmen across at the overpass.

"Calvary?" Myla asked.

'No. Somebody else joined the party. Munchers are going' after them now."

"Any way out?" Myla asked.

"The floor," Vasiliy said. “Be quick, don’t let any of them see you.”

The professor and Vasiliy pulled the metal grate back from the floor of the truck.

"Well god's looking after us after all." Vasiliy as he saw the manhole cover just below them. He took a crowbar and pulled the cover from the sewer. Myla went first, hearing nothing but gunfire and two men beside the truck.

 

"Quick now," Vasiliy said as he hit the ground. "Let's get the hell outta here!"

* * * * *

It wasn't long before Vasiliy had led them to an exit. Myla climbed up first using her shoulder to push the manhole cover free. Once the three of them were out, they all took a breath of fresh air, thankful they no longer had to breathe in that stench.

"We're gonna need that boat." Vasiliy pointed to the marina. There was a small boat, unoccupied. Myla nodded, but when she turned around she saw a young man had drawn a gun on them. Myla raised her hands in defense.

"Hey, pawnbroker!" Gus Elizalde called out.

Vasiliy was a quick to draw his weapon, Myla wanted to reach for her weapon, but she was too scared.

"Try me, big boy." Gus taunted. "You're lucky I don't shoot you for making me walk through that sewer."

Myla had a few guns pointed at her during her lifetime, but it never got any easier. 

"Back off man. Just walk away." Vas told him.

"I'm talking to Mr. Setrakian here. You made a deal old man, I'm here to see that you honor it."

"Who the hell is this guy anyway?" Vas asked.

"A former customer," Setrakian said. "I am not giving this book to you. Or to the ancients. Or to anyone. I'm going to walk onto that boat, and either you are going to shoot me, and Mr. Fet is going to shoot you. Or-"

"-Or..." said a unique voice. "... I could kill all of you." he finished.

Myla's eyes became glued to the pale man now walking towards them making the threats. He was perhaps the strangest thing she'd ever seen, and in a way - the most beautiful. What the hell was he? He didn't look quite like the rest of them... was this who they kept meaning by the ancients? 

"This guy?" Vas sighed. There was a thick silence, death threats now given to members of each party. If this man was no stranger to them... clearly Myla was missing out on how much everyone knew about this plague. It only made her feel better about cutting off the Swiss teller's line to make sure her brother got that book.

"Mr. Quinlan..." the professor began. ”You did not come all this way to do the ancients bidding. I know who you are."

“Do you?” Quinlan asked.

“I know what you want. And it’s not this book.” Setrakian said.

“Same old pawnbroker... making’ deals. Careful Quinlan or you’re gonna end up with a broken clock!” Gus said.

“The ancients will destroy this book, rather than allow its secrets to be revealed, and when they do... they will destroy the one item in the world the master desires.”

“But as long as this book exists...” Quinlan said, eyes opening with the realization that the old man was right.

“it is bait. If you want the Master... he will come for whoever possesses it. That I guarantee you.”

Myla watched has Quinlan’s lips turn upwards into a thin smile.

 

* * *

 

Finding herself on a boat with a couple of thugs, a professor, her brother, and a... _well whatever he was,_ wasn’t exactly something Myla could have predicted.

"Well, you look. You look good." Vasiliy told her. It was the first formal sentence he’d spoken to her since they had run into each other less than two hours ago. Two hours for two whole years. What a day.

"Thanks, Vas," Myla said.

"You uh, been doin' alright down in that place?"

"Yeah, I've been clean for over a year Vas," Myla said with pride.

“That... makes me really happy,” Vasiliy said. “After you’d vanished, I didn’t know what to think.”

“Sorry about that Vas,” Myla whispered. "I didn't mean to vanish like that..."

"I just uh - you know we've been leaving each other messages since I found out you were at that place. Haven't even spoken to you... guess that explains why I didn't know you were here." 

"It was an impulse... when that flight landed I got this feeling you know? And after the eclipse I just couldn't sleep knowing you were here... and mom and dad..."

"You talk to mom and dad lately?" Vasiliy asked.

"Not as much as you'd think, only heard from Mom on my last birthday. But Dad still... well you know." Myla said.

"I was hoping they would leave town, and come see you. Avoid all this shit - you know." Vasiliy said.

"I tried to call them, but couldn't get them on the phone after you left me that message." I was on a bus the next day. "I would imagine I tried calling them after you told them to leave. Maybe they went north? I think Mom's sister's still alive - still crazy and collecting coins."

"Aunt Georgie... yeah that's a possibility, even though I'm pretty sure dad hates her more than the two of us combined," Vasiliy said.

"At least there's someone he hates more than us." Myla joked.

"Still... I'm glad you're here. It's dangerous n' all, but at least I know you're okay. " Vasiliy said. 

"So how'd you end up on that island working for that guy?" Vasiliy asked.

"Alonso owed me a favor from, well you know... from The Fairy. And I uh, went looking for you, found some random people coming and going at your place though, I didn't think you were there anymore."

"No, I'm still there. Well. We were, it's kinda all shot to shit now with all these munchers after us now."

"Yeah about that, how'd you end up spending 343 million over some book? Where'd you get that kind of gold?"

"Well, that half-muncher out there knew some old munchers that wanted the book. The professor here took their money, and we went to go get it. And it ain't just some book. _That book_ is our best shot at stopping this thing. I've put everything I've got left into the Professor, I'm just left praying for some kinda outcome where we ain't all dead." Vasiliy told her.

"Do you mind if I tag along? I'm happy to help any way that I can." Myla asked.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Vasiliy said. "I'm really glad you're here."

* * *

 

Myla took a minute to give the professor and Vasiliy some time to chat. It was a good excuse to enjoy the water one last time. Who knew how long it would be until she would see it again. She had never fathomed what had been going on in the city, but when she finally got here... it was a lot to take in. 

"Smoke?" Gus asked her.

"Yeah, I'll take one," Myla said. It was when she saw his brand of cigarettes that she remembered him. "It's been awhile, Elizalde."

"I know you?" Gus asked.

"It's been a _really_ long time. I don't expect you to-" Myla was cut off, by a smile and a face of recognition.

"No... Lavender? That really you?" Gus asked. "Didn't recognize you without the hair."

"Not Lavender anymore, but yeah, that _was_ me," Myla said.

"Haven't been by the Green Fairy in a while," Gus said. "Found myself in some shit."

"Haven't been there in a long time either," Myla said lighting her cigarette. "That place was my pile of shit."

"You sticking with this bunch?" Gus asked.

"Looks like it." Myla sighed. "The big one is my brother,"

"The rat catcher huh? Would never have guessed. Maybe we'll cross paths again, yeah?"

"Maybe," Myla said as she smiled. "I'm glad you're doing well." Gus nodded and didn't say much after that. The last time she had seen Gus he had been dropping off a bag full of cash. Myla knew Gus's associations with her old boss weren't exactly legal... she even heard he'd gone to prison just before Myla herself chose to leave. 

As Gus walked away, Myla looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of the pale man at the bow of the boat. Their eyes locked for a moment - a moment that was sharp, and awkward - but she couldn't help but want to turn back around after she'd turned away. He was a... _'half-muncher?'_ Myla asked herself as she heard Vasiliy's voice in her head. _"No... he's Mr. Quinlan," she told herself._

Myla was just glad he hadn't chosen to shoot them all.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Olympian

“Where do we go?” Vasiliy asked. 

They had procured another stolen vehicle.  A large black SUV that had seated the four of them comfortably. They had left the boat at first light, using the ocean as their protection. Now as they drove through the streets, Myla realized just how bad things had become. The last time she had been out in the city was with Alonso and his men, but they hadn’t seen nearly as many abandoned cars or looted shops.

“Your apartment?” Setrakian asked.

“If it is a place you wish to protect, I would not go there. We are being followed.” Quinlan stated as he turned back around.

“By who?” Vasily asked.

“Not sure. Perhaps The Sun Hunters.” Quinlan answered.

“Stonehart is more likely,” Setrakian said.

“So where can I lose ‘em?” 

Myla reached into her bag, she’d often clipped hotel cards, club cards, and private member cards to the inner zipper. They had been forgotten these last two years - but now she was grateful she never threw them out.

The one she was looking for was still clipped there, heavy, and with the magnetic strip still in place.

“I have an idea,” Myla said. “The Olympian - it's not far from here. If you speed up, lose the tail we can pull into the underground parking lot.”

“Those lots have gates and need a key card - we won’t be able to get in,” Vasiliy said.

Myla dangled the keycard between Vasiliy and Setrakian. 

Vasiliy took the key card and inspected it. Neither Vasiliy or Myla liked where the keycard had come from, but with the black sedan behind them creeping closer and closer...

“There's a big kitchen, so there's probably food,” Myla said. “And lots of rooms.” 

“Well, whatever gets us away from these guys,” Vasiliy said.

Vasiliy pressed on the gas, he drove through a few side streets and even one alleyway before he found the entrance to the parking garage. In one swift movement, he held his hand out to the scanner, and the gates lifted. Quickly and quietly, they had disappeared from sight.

“We should sweep the place,” Vasiliy said. “Myla, why don’t you wait in the car while we check the place out.” 

Myla crossed her arms and cocked her eyebrow as the three men exited the vehicle. 

The underground didn’t have a lot of space. The parking available was meant for individuals with a lease here. Guest parking was always elsewhere, but that was New York for you.

Vasiliy pressed the button on the elevator. The button lit up and dimmed again. Quinlan joined Vasiliy’s side after checking the shadows and nearby cars for anything unwelcome. 

Vasiliy pressed the button again. It still didn't work.

“What the hell is wrong with this thing?” he said.

Myla stepped beside him, scanning the key card against another magnetic reader and hit the call button. This time it stayed lit.

“Stay in the car? You can't even get in the building without me,” she said as the elevator doors opened.

“Well,” Vasiliy said between his teeth. “Unlike you, I’ve never been here before.”

Myla didn’t like the accusatory tone that came from her brother. But she stepped in the elevator anyway. Myla took out her small pistol from her backpack and held it at her hip as they made their way to the first floor. There, they checked the kitchens, finding shelves full of food - and luckily, no strigoi.

The next several floors were empty, except for the 5th and 6th, which contained a few turned men and women. Vasiliy and Quinlan had killed most of them. While the professor caught a few of the wounded with his sword. Myla managed to shoot two, killing one. 

They made it to the top floor. Quinlan saw the height as an advantage and liked that he could use the fire escape to come and go as he pleased. Vasiliy was happy to find a room with a large shower, running water was hard to come by, and few buildings were built with water reserves. Luckily, this one did.

Now that the building was clear, Myla felt an ease fall over her. She watched as the professor removed his coat to settle into a nearby chair. She watched the professor carefully set the book in his lap as he began to translate it for the first time.

Vasiliy grumbled under his breath. “I’m going to get some shut-eye.”

“How long are we planning on being here for?” Myla asked.

“As long as it takes,” Setrakian said.

“Alright then.” Myla made herself comfortable. 

* * *

 

Myla’s sweater was spread out across the cool cement of the roof. She was lying down, staring up at the stars. Night had fallen, Vasiliy and Quinlan had left. Myla's day had been a rather quiet one. 

She had stolen Gus’s cigarettes before they had departed that morning - she had snuck away to have one but she had been distracted by the far-off gunshots and the burning buildings.

So she laid on her back and watched the stars instead.

Myla had been keeping an eye on the professor. Babysitting it seemed. But he didn’t move much, always reading, and saying nothing. The book was dense and in various languages. Myla couldn't do much but made sure the professor was fed.

Myla’s eyes rolled as she thought of Vasiliy. It was so typical of him to leave her behind while he went off to handle work. That damn badge around his neck had gone straight to his head, he was already acting like he was the only one who could help... Myla knew her brother well enough to know he always chose to carry everyone else's burdens. The worst part was that he never asked for help. They had fallen back into what they used to be, a college kid who came home on the weekends and told his baby sister to do as she was told.

There was a lot about their relationship that bothered her. All the memories of their father came flooding back to her. Myla could still remember stern lectures about making a life in America worth it. As a child of immigrants, much was expected from her and her brother. But the pressure they had both endured had nearly broken them apart. Even just this morning when they were in the garage, Myla had heard a semblance of their father’s voice when Vasiliy spoke to her. The sound of her brother's disappointment sounded a lot like their fathers.

Though, he wasn't wrong to be disappointed. Myla had a keycard here because she had worked here before. Something Vasiliy knew _but didn’t really want to know._  Vasiliy liked to pretend Myla was perfect, but they both knew she wasn't.

When morning came, Vasiliy still wasn’t back, but Quinlan had returned. The pale man had chosen to avoid them at first, still unsure if he wanted to trust them. But even he was entranced by that book as almost as much as the professor was. 

Later in the day, Myla brought the professor a bowl of soup, something he didn’t seem to even notice. She had to remind him to eat when he didn't look up. Finally, the professor gave Quinlan the book while he ate his soup. The two of them had been hunched over it all morning working on the translations. When they worked together, all ideas of personal space had been forgotten.

_'Making a few copies might be a good idea.' Myla thought to herself._

Though, she slightly enjoyed watching them argue. It was like watching two professors of history argue what happened and how it happened. 

Myla found it truly fascinating because the Professor had lived through so much of it. Myla had a chance to glance at the tattoo on his arm realizing just how old the man must be. This shocked her because just yesterday she had watched him wield a sword like it was nothing.

Quinlan, on the other hand, seemed to be fluent in Latin, and the longer their conversations went on she realized that Quinlan was clearly older than she had expected. The professor had even mentioned the word Gladiator at one point, and Myla could only sit in disbelief. 

_That wasn't possible He couldn't be..._

When night had fallen, and Vasiliy still hadn't returned, Myla decided it was time to worry about him now. Quinlan left again, sword at his back and guns at his side. But at least she knew Quinlan was likely to return. She didn't even know where Vasiliy was.

 _'Damn Vasiliy always does what he wants._ ’ she could hear her father say.

She tried to sleep that night. But to no avail. She could only toss and turn, so she left her room. She eyed the liquor cabinet, full well knowing a glass or two would certainly help her get to sleep, but she was stronger than that. So she settled on making a pot of tea, it would help her, and she knew the professor would like it.

She brought up the tea tray when it was roughly four am. Myla sat next to the professor, she touched his arm, and his gaze slowly drifted to her. He was clearly tired, she only just noticed he hadn't finished the bowl of soup she had given him.

“I think you need a little sleep professor,” Myla stated.

“I suppose... you are right.” he sighed. "That tea... smells lovely though."

Myla gave him a cup, "here it'll put us both to sleep," she told him.

The professor set the Lumen aside and reached for the sugar on the tray. Myla reached out to help him because his hands were shaking, so she added a scoop of sugar to his tea. The professor never even took a sip before the saucer slipped from his fingers. His eyes rolled back in his head and his breathing became difficult.

Myla fell to her knees in front of him she watched as the professor clutched his chest.

“Professor! What is it? What's wrong? Tell me how to help you!” Myla said. 

“My... my...”

“Your pills!” Myla fumbled through his coat on the couch she had seen the man take them enough times to know they were pertinent to his health. She shook his coat, she could hear the pills rattling, but couldn’t manage to find the damn pocket.

“No...  here,” he said, as he reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a small vial. 

“What is this? What do I do?” Myla asked.

“One drop... each eye,” he said in between gasps.

Myla’s hands shook as she took out the dropper, and placed one white drop in each of the professor’s eyes.

It only seemed to make him worse. He shook violently and seemed to be in incredible pain. She could only take his hands as he cried out.

Then it all stopped. He relaxed, the change was so sudden, Myla thought the worst.

“Professor... Abraham!” she said.

His hand was wrapped around her arm, but from his wrist, she could feel a pulse, and it felt strong. But he looked dead.

Quinlan made her jump when he knelt down next to her. 

“What happened?” Quinlan asked.

“He fell... I gave him - I don’t know what I gave him!”

Quinlan thumbed the vial, almost angry at what it was. “The White,” he whispered. 

“What can we do?” Myla asked. Her eyes couldn’t look away from Quinlan's pale fingers holding that vial.

“I'll get him to bed. He’ll be fine come morning.”

“You’re sure?” she asked. "What if - what if that stuff kills him in his sleep?"

“If he’s been using it this long, I’m sure he’ll feel ten years younger in the morning.”

Myla looked into Quinlan’s eyes. Noticing for the first time how cold they were. 

Myla had taken Quinlan's hand in hers, in her panic she had reached out to him. She realized now that he had the warmest hands. Their heat eased any icy glare his eyes could produce. And with that simple touch, she felt calm.

“I understand you’re frightened. He will be okay. I promise.” 

When she let a breath back into her lungs her hand slipped away from his, and Quinlan was free to carry the professor to the nearby couch. 

For the time being, he would keep an eye on him. He knew it would ease the girls fear. 

“You can go back to bed now,” Quinlan said. How low voice startling her again. 

“What was that I gave him?"

“It is...” Quinlan sighed. “A complicated substance. It is a form of what keeps me alive, made to keep him alive. The man _is_ nearly ninety-four.”

“Keeps you..." Myla's mind trailed off, remembering the word Gladiator from this morning. "I suppose that is just a fraction of your life?”

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

“No one, you -” Myla swallowed. Was Quinlan this frightening before? “- I assumed when you corrected the professor’s Latin by making him understand there is a syllable difference between fighting with someone... and literally fighting _with_ _someone._ ”

“Perhaps I was once a student,” Quinlan said, a slight smirk appearing in the corner of his mouth.

“Students usually don’t joke about Julius Agricola taking the saying literally and defeating a small army... _with their own arms._ ”

“Perhaps I read it in a book once.”

Myla laughed. His coy demeanor and playful reaction to talking about himself had brought her a great ease. 

“Not with the look you had on your face. You looked as though you were remembering it.”

Quinlan looked down at the floor. And back at her, this time she caught a small smirk on his face. “Caledonians were poor soldiers. It made for a believable story.”

Myla eyes brightened as she smiled back at him.

"To be so old... no wonder when you read that book you have so much to say,” Myla said.

“There are a few good stories. But sadly too few.”

Myla watched the smile fade from his face.

“Get some rest. I’ll watch over him.” Quinlan said.

Myla nodded, but first, she gathered the broken pieces of ceramic off the floor. She set them on the tray for the time being, and placed a small blanket over the professor before looking at Quinlan one last time.

"Thank you," Myla said as she left the room.

 

* * *

 

A few hours later, Myla woke up in a quiet apartment. She left her room, dressing in a pair of jeans, and a simple t-shirt. She would need to find more clothes soon unless she found a way to wash them. 

Setrakian was in the same seat as the night before. Still reading the Lumen.

“Coffee professor?” she asked.

He didn’t respond.

“Professor?” she said more sternly this time. 

“Hmm. Yes?” he asked, still not looking up from his book.

“Coffee?” she asked. “Do you want one?’”

“Oh, yes. Hmm.”

Myla had taken the pot from the kitchen, pouring herself a black cup of coffee, and one for the professor.

“Sugar,” Setrakian said. 

Myla added a generous spoonful of sugar, suddenly she had a flashback from the previous night. 

She handed him the cup and took a seat across from him, hoping he wouldn't drop this cup.

"I wanted to apologize for last night... I spread myself too thin and at my age, I should have been more careful." 

Myla took out her own vial and adding a dose of medicine to her morning cup of coffee, as she did every day. 

"I'm just glad you're okay," Myla said. "I didn't mean to act so scared - It was just so unexpected."

"Again, my apologies."

Myla shook her head. "No apology needed." 

She noticed Quinlan in the corner, reading from a piece of paper. It was a handwritten copy Setrakian had given him to translate. Myla wondered what they were so entranced with that a mere vocal communication was too great a challenge. 

Myla had let them be for a time as she explored the tenth floor. She had found a pair of shoes that fit her, and a t-shirt or two. But she had come back to find the two men bickering about the definition of the word Vrykolakas. 

 _“Vampire”_ she mumbled under her breath. Quinlan had heard her. Both of them looking at her. “Or a wolf. But it depends on your Romanian or...”

“And how do you know this?” Abraham asked.

“Well I wasn’t born in Ukraine, but don’t all mothers talk to their children in their native tongue?” Myla asked.

“But you have no accent?” Abraham asked.

“Vasiliy was born there. I came... some six years after my family emigrated. With their accents getting weaker and me going to public school I managed to sound like I was just from Brooklyn.”

The Professor smiled at her. “Could you please explain to us why that word can mean vampire or wolf.”

“It means to feast on blood. To need blood.” Myla tried to remember the story in her mother’s voice. “There was a tale about a great wolf that was killed... and he came back as a powerful vampire. _D_ _laka_ means hair. So you get _yuk_ and _dlaka_ to gather and you get... a wolf with fur that eats blood. The vrykolaka became more and more powerful the longer it was left alone, legends said that one should destroy its body. According to some accounts, this can only be done on a Saturday, which is the only day when the vrykolaka rests in its grave - that's how you get the stake to the heart, beheading... you know the things from the movies.”

“Your mother taught you all this?” Quinlan asked.

“My mother told me stories." Myla said, "I wouldn't say she was teaching me anything. It was my duty to help her cook and clean and to pass the time she would tell me stories. And I always liked the scary ones. But they were just stories. Myths of monsters and ghosts. Things my grandmother told her, and her mother before her.”

“Someone told me once... there are no myths, only exaggerations.” The professor said. There a small glance was shared between the two men. “Did you mother ever tell you of a polish tale, about a man named Sardu?”

“The tall man with a cane? Yes, I remember it. It was to scare children, the story of the boogeyman.”

“A man who stole children away from their homes, luring them with treats... and that sound... _pick, pick, pick.”_ Setrakian said as he remembered his own grandmother telling him the story.

“And you’re telling me this was not just some story?” Myla asked.

“Sardu was very real. So was the creature before him. The same creature that snatched his body. And the same creature we hunt now.”

Myla could still hear her mother’s voice. _“The children would leave their beds hoping to find treats and spoils... but these children never returned home again...”_

“He is my creator. The master. My father.” Quinlan said. 

* * *

Myla had sat around for another few hours while they argued about the latin, greek, and Slavic translations. 

By four in the afternoon, Myla had enough and took the elevator to the ground floor. She had to walk a few blocks to the print shop. It was completely deserted, and the door was even still unlocked. She ripped their best copier from the wall. She made sure to fill the tray with paper before she loaded it into a cart and pushed it out of the front door.

“You looting now?” Vasiliy asked from behind her.

Myla jumped, surprised to see her brother out here on the street. “Hardly. Borrowing.” Myla said back.

“I followed you here, I thought I told you to stay with the Professor.” 

“I’m not a baby Vas. I can do what I want. Quinlan and the Professor can’t translate the book sitting in each other’s laps.”

“Maybe I don’t trust Quinlan, and we shouldn’t give him an extra reason to stick around.”

“Quinlan is harmless,” Myla said. “Well... not strictly speaking, but-”

“Oh, you’re friends now?”

“I’m sorry. But did you leave me alone with two strangers for forty-eight hours and expect me to not talk to them?”

“LuLu.”

“Don’t call me that. You know I hate that.”

“Yeah well, I don’t exactly like finding you at Alonso’s or with a keycard to the Olympian just hanging out in your bag. Do I have anymore tricks to look forward to?”

“Do do that Vas. Don’t go there. You’ve been gone for two days! I have the right to worry, I have the right to be upset.”

“I didn’t want you to leave... it’s not safe out here!” Vasiliy tried to explain.

“You think I don’t know that? I left during daylight didn’t I?”

Myla turned away from Vasiliy, pushing the copier further down the street.

“Myla don’t walk away from me.”

Myla continued to walk. Hearing Vasiliy steps close behind her.

“LIUDMYLA.” 

Myla turned around. She didn’t know why Vasiliy could get like this with her, why he could act so much like their father, and only when it came to her, or her choices.

There was always that part of him that would be like their father.

“I haven’t seen you in two years Vas.”

“Who’s fault is that?” he stated flatly.

Myla could feel tears brimming in her eyes, and she didn’t want him to know he’d hurt her. She refused to turn around.

“I came back looking for you. I walked to your flat on foot. Without Alonso’s help. And when you weren’t there I went back to the one place I could be safe while I looked for you. And then you find me, and I was so happy to see you after all this time... and you just up and disappear!?”

“Myla, I’m trying to save the damn city. It’s not exactly the perfect time for a reunion. Don’t forget that you were the one who left.”

“Because I was drowning Vas. If I had stayed another night in this city I would have ended up dead.” Myla’s fingers tightened on the cart. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve an explanation.  “I... thought now when it mattered the most we could be a family again. When I heard people were sick Vas, all I could think of was you.”

“It still doesn’t change how you left. It mattered to me back then.”

“You were plenty busy. You gave me money. Money I always found a way to spend on drugs.”

“Jesus, Myla.” Vasiliy took a step back.

Myla kept walking. Vasiliy followed her from a distance as they both walked back to the Olympian. The copier fit in the elevator well enough, but Vasiliy had to wait for the next ride up. Myla was more than happy about that.

Myla had to argue with the professor to give her the book, the professor reluctantly gave the book to her. She made quick black and white copies of the first half of the book before handing Lumen back to the professor. 

“I’ll finish the other half of the book when you take your next break,” Myla said. “Where’s Quinlan?”

“Somewhere nearby.” the professor mumbled.

Myla had ignored Vasiliy as he stepped off the elevator. She could tell by the way he tilted his head and bit the inside of his cheek that he’d felt bad about their argument. 

“Professor, can I get you some food?” she asked.

His eyes still scanned the page. Only briefly did he look up. 

“What was that dear?” he asked.

“Food, Professor. Can I get you some?” 

“Oh no, I’m quite alright,” he muttered turning back to his book. 

Myla raised an eyebrow but quickly drew her attention to Vasiliy.

“You see what I have to deal with?” she said.

“Well, the professor was never a peach,” Vasiliy said.

“But he was a zombie?” she asked.

“Well. Not to this degree, I suppose. Did you say something about food?” he asked.

Myla rolled her eyes. “Yeah let me get you something from downstairs.” 

* * *

 

Myla had taken her time making some lunch for the three of them. Despite the professor’s refusal. Myla wasn’t about to have a repeat of last night. She was going to force him to eat if she had to. Even if she had to pry that book out of his grasp.

Myla was surprised to hear Vasiliy talking to Quinlan.

“Well Justine’s convinced them to send in the big guns. The army is going to send in reinforcements, and with the police and volunteers, we can take back the city. None of this hero shit needs to happen.” Vasiliy said.

“It took cunning and skill for you to harm the Master at all with your little stunt with the sunlight. And good luck convincing your newcomers of what is really the problem here. Half of New York doesn’t know what this is, they think it's an illness... something that can be cured. How do you suppose you'll get them to listen to you?”

“Look, I’m not going to listen to some half-muncher, and some damn book-”

“Vasiliy Fet!” Myla said, suddenly sounding like their mother.

“What!”

“You know as well as anyone this is a team effort, and that Abraham and Quinlan give you a damn good shot at exterminating your damn ‘munchers.’ So maybe you should reign it in a little, and consider working with them.”

“I’m doing good work out there,” Vasiliy said. 

“Or you just don’t want to work with me,” Myla stated.  “You don’t know where to put me, or what to do with me.”

Vasiliy was silent as he took his sandwich, and turned back towards the elevators. His silver badge was shining in the light. 

“Maybe. I don't know.” was all he said before he left again.

The room was silent, Myla only hoped it wasn’t as embarrassing as it felt.

Myla took a plate to the professor, setting it by his side.

“You need to eat that by nightfall, or I will force you to eat it.” Myla said. “No more repeats of last night.”

Abraham looked up at her, giving her a small scowl before returning to the book. Myla did, however, see him give a slight nod.

Quinlan was standing by the bar, still fussing with a handwritten page of the professor’s scribbling. 

Myla walked over to the bar, another small craving came for her to have a drink. But she ignored it. 

“Here, managed to make these. They're black and white, but at least it’s page by page and in order. If you’re going to do this, you two ought to do it right."

“This will be an improvement,” Quinlan said as a matter of factly. Myla lightly touched his arm as she left his side, before quietly retreating to the back bedroom.

 

* * *

 

The outburst with Vasiliy had made both Quinlan and the professor uncomfortable for a short moment. But Myla returned later to make sure the professor had eaten, then she sat with them quietly, reading something she had found in one of the other rooms. 

She hadn’t seemed bothered by Vasiliy’s final statement. But she felt aware of their relationship, despite the passage of time between them, siblings always did know how to have a proper argument. 

But, what had struck Quinlan was how she had raised her voice to defend him. She had scolded Vasiliy with a look that told him to be kind. Her eyes had been soft and sad, something that had pained him. But he looked at her now and found himself admiring the girl for her resourcefulness. She’d hauled such a large machine down the street just so he could have a copy of the Lumen. Quinlan felt it was a sort of gift. 

She was truly kind. Something he’s found to be quite rare amongst humans, at least in the true sense. Humans could be nice to a certain degree. But to stick up for a stranger... that was never easy for many.

 


	3. The Stinger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry to take my time, I am a busy girl and plan on cranking this out before the next season. Thank you all for the kudos and comments so far. I promise the blossom of a relationship isn't far away. But it's going to get hairy and good before I incorporate the timeline of season three.

Myla awoke the next morning curled in one of the beds. It was quiet now that the professor was finally sleeping, and Quinlan was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t bother her to be alone, but her dreams had begun to catch up with her.

Dreams for everyone could be fleeting or they could be fun, maybe memorable... and sometimes your brain just does shit almost as if it knows how to fuck with you, but is unable to understand that its actions could have consequences. 

Being at the Olympian had stirred up a few old memories, the fancy showers, the stocked bar, even the 1800 thread count sheets. But even after all that time, she could distinctly remember how luxury had been stained with the idea of death and self-loathing. 

She rolled over hugging a soft down pillow to her chest. She closed her eyes for a moment and pretended that she wasn’t alone, that someone was there that she could wrap her arms around even if it was only for a moment. 

Myla had wished to change this feeling. Being on her own for the last couple years had made her resent Vasiliy for their relationship that had been reduced to a series of voicemails. Most of them obligatory holiday or birthday calls, all of which went screened by both parties. Neither of them really knowing what to actually say. 

But maybe now wasn’t the best time to try and reconcile. She could resent him when it was just rats he hunted. But not when he was actually making a difference in saving the city from damnation. 

She thought of the last time she had seen Vasiliy... it had been to collect an envelope of money. Like the big brother he was, he tried to help her and pay her rent once and a while. Sure maybe every so often he was harder on her then he wanted to be,  but considering the shit she managed to get herself into, it was well deserved. That last envelope had gone to pay for nothing good, though she would never admit that. Myla would've died before she let her brother know how his generosity had only furthered her drug habit, but yesterday she had just thrown that in his face. 

Myla soon found herself downstairs in the lower levels where they had cleared a few strigoi. One of the suites there had been a place she had often frequented for work. And though she and several of her friends often made house calls there, she still held onto the fact that she had never sold her self for any acts of pleasure. 

She had only ever been a dancer.

_Until her last night in New York._

Myla fiddled with the heavy decanter on the nearby table. It used to be filled with a fine single malt whiskey. At least it had been up until she cracked it over the skull of a client who thought being paid for meant being property... not just entertainment.

She had been too high that night to call the police. She had been too high to even check and see if the guy was still alive before she loaded her shit onto the first bus leaving for Virginia. All she could really recall was the first phone call she had made to Vasiliy several weeks later from her detox center. 

It had been his voicemail. 

Myla pushed away from the memory and thumbed the bottom of her shirt. It was uncomfortably short, and it had begun to bother her. Since she hadn’t checked this floor the other day, perhaps she had overlooked dresser or two containing something she could add to her bag, not to mention that she really needed a damn coat.

Myla closed the door to the apartment filled with memories and made her way down the long hallway. This was where they had first found strigoi hiding in the building, their bodies still lying there untouched, but definitely dead. Myla looked closely at them, the worms were now dead and shriveled around their bodies. For a brief moment, she studied what she could of them. She had never seen the stingers up close before, and couldn’t help but admire how complex whatever _this_ was. 

It could kill you and turn you in a matter of days now. There were rumors of a bioweapon, and now the mystery sank even further as she wondered what Quinlan was to them. How was he a descendant of this master, and how had this been a secret for so long?

She continued down the hall looking for a door that was left unlocked, Myla, however, lept out of her own skin when she found Quinlan standing in a doorway. She threw herself backward with enough force to dent the drywall. 

“For fuck's sake.” she breathed clutching her chest. “Why are you standing there all quiet?”

“I heard one of them down here last night,” he said. “Thought I would wait until morning... when it was nesting.”

“Oh, there... are more of them?” she asked.

“There was one, likely not fully turned until after our arrival,” he said. “What are you doing down here? You should know it’s dangerous to be down here alone.”

“I uh - Of course I knew that I bought a gun... but I suppose you’re right I wasn’t expecting anything to be down here.” Myla’s breathing was normal again, and suddenly she did feel silly wandering down here without at least telling someone. “I was uh- looking for something to wear,” she said lifting up her arms slightly until her midriff was exposed. 

She wasn’t sure where his gaze was, but Quinlan wasn’t looking at her anymore. 

“There’s a woman’s wardrobe in here,” he said. “But be careful, this one’s fresh.”

Myla stepped around Quinlan, slipping through the doorframe and into the smaller apartment. She noticed the freshly beheaded corpse at her feet. More worms around it, this time they were still very much alive. She stepped over the body carefully and made her way into one of the rooms.

“I don’t suppose Mr. Fet would be too happy to see you down here?” Quinlan asked. Myla jumped once more realizing he had followed her. 

“Well, that’s Vas for you, always somewhere else.  At least he’s killing strigoi this time. It did always seem silly to me he never came home because he was hunting rats.”

Myla opened the armoire in the first bedroom, she found several pretty dresses, blouses, and undershirts. They were expensive, they were made from a soft material and Myla almost felt wrong for taking them. 

“What do you do for clothes?” Myla asked. “You don’t really seem like the type to do laundry.”

“Someone buys them for me. When I need them.”

“Personal shopper, nice,” she said as she looked back and smiled. 

Myla pulled a few things from the armoire and draped them over her shoulder. She pulled a men's shirt from the dresser as well. She walked over to Quinlan and placed the shirt on his shoulder. Myla absentmindedly ran her hand over his shoulder before she gestured to the white blood across his shirt.

“Looks like this would fit you,” she said.

Quinlan looked down, only noticing the blood for the first time. 

“Oh, you poor thing,” Myla said. 

“I’m certainly capable -” Quinlan began to speak, but he realized her words weren’t directed at him. 

In the corner of the room was a plant that had been knocked over while sneaking up behind the Strigoi. It was dead, so why she had some sort of need to pick it back up perplexed him.

She placed it on the nearby desk and scooped up a handful of bark and returned it to the plastic container.

“Is it not dead?” he asked. 

“No it’s very much alive,” she spoke. She pulled a small knife from her pocket and cut away the dead stems, leaving behind its green leaves. “There.”

“Let me walk you back to the elevator.” Quinlan said, “That is if you’re done here.”

‘Yes, thank you.” she said smiling and picking up her plant.

She stepped back over the dead strigoi finding Quinlan was right behind her, she was even sure his hand had found the small of her back as he ushered her out back into the hallway. This made her smile. The way he talked and carried himself had told her from the beginning that he was old. And she couldn’t help but find herself wanting to know more about him, about the things he had seen... _he must have seen so much beauty, she thought._

They silently rode in the elevator together. 

Quinlan couldn’t understand how the girl was always smiling. Maybe it was him. He certainly didn’t think it was the dead stranger, but it seemed like nothing could dampen her smile. Except perhaps when they arrived at the top floor, and Vasily still had not returned. He had noticed her disappointment. 

She muttered a small thank you before heading to the kitchens. 

Quinlan thumbed the shirt slug across his shoulder. I would fit him. It was simple, grey, and long sleeved. It was made of breathable material and he was actually grateful she had thought of him, _once again._ He watched her walk away, pleased with herself, but he found himself admiring more than just her confidence. 

* * *

 

Myla came to the kitchen, fixing a plate of powdered eggs, and enjoying a can of fruit cocktail. She poured herself a cup of coffee, slipping in another dosage from her usual morning vitamin. Afterwards, she entered Vasiliy’s room, it was empty. He had only slept in the room once since they’d been here. But this room came with the bigger shower, perhaps her favorite luxury of the Olympian. 

The shower heated well enough. There was a small seat, several settings of pressure, and even heated bathroom tiles. She could stay in that room for hours the way that it kept her warm. She placed her newfound orchid nearby letting the steam from the shower supply its water.

After her shower, she re-dressed in the new clothes she had found. They were a bit worn, but once upon a time, they had cost someone a pretty penny. Something she could never have afforded. 

As she was tying her shoes she heard the metal doors to the elevator slide open.

She found Vasiliy in the hallway. He was wearing his big coat, badge still around his neck.

“Myla...” his face was apologetic with those sad puppy dog eyes.

“Hey, vas.”

“About the other day... I didn’t know what to say.”

“I know Vas.”

“I just feel like I’m making a difference out there you know. I’ve got the professor’s back n’ all. But there’s talk of these seals coming in, and they need someone to lead ‘em. And Justine thinks that should be me.”

“That’s great Vas,” she said smiling. “You always did go your own way.”

“I guess... I guess I did. But you are my sister, and we should work together on this. You’re not so bad with a gun. I guess that just means I worry about you been’ in all this. When this started, at least I knew you were far away from it.”

Myla gave her brother a hug. “I know Vas. But you have to see the other way around. I was going crazy worrying about you and mom. I was always coming back, whether you liked it or not.”

“I expected you to worry, sure. But in my head I kept telling myself you and ma, dad... you were all somewhere safe far away from this.”

“What do you say we go take a trip up the island and see if they made it out?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course,” Vasiliy said. “ We’re gonna need some more weapons though. Apartment buildings can be hard to clear. If uh, you’re up for it, maybe we can pick up a few weapons and raid a few pawn shops for some silver, huh?”

“Yeah, let's do what we gotta do,” she said.

 

* * *

 

Myla poured Vasiliy a cup of coffee while they waited for the professor to wake up. When Abraham did wake up, he indulged in his own cup of coffee, while he agreed with Vasiliy that a bit more silver would do them good. Bullets, grenades... Vasiliy lit up like a little boy when he talked about those weapon modifications. Myla knew the risks of going out, especially into shops where guns were sold, people likely went their first after all this... and those people were likely infected. 

"We're gonna go to that gun shop on 29th," Vasiliy said. "We've been avoiding it, but with your help, we might be okay."

"You mean mine and Quinlan's help, yeah?"

"Well, he definitely trumps the Professor’s abilities," Vas said. “The professor uses an ancient sword and a nail gun from home depot.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Silver nails are easy to acquire apparently,” Vasiliy told her.

“You don’t get any good weapons from your new best friend Justine eh?”

“None I get to keep,” Vasiliy said. “You sure you’re okay with the half-muncher coming with us?”

“Yeah, why? Does he scare you?” Myla asked.

“No... I just thought he might scare you is all.”

“No, he doesn’t,” Myla said.

“Not even a little bit?” Vasiliy asked.

“Not even a little bit,” she said.

“But what if... you know he gets really hungry and you’re the only source of food, huh, what then?”

“Believe me Vas.  I’ve had men look at me when they were hungry and wanted to stick me with something. And I’m not concerned about that one.”

Vasiliy’s face grimaced.

“You asked,” she stated, shrugging her shoulders. 

“Yeah, but did you have to be so...”

“Yes, Vas. I did.”

Myla smiled at him while his eyebrows were still furrowed. Quinlan returned from the exit to the roof. Surprised to Vasiliy here, and the Professor not buried in his book.

“We’re going out for a quick restock. You want to join?” Vasiliy asked.

Quinlan nodded. 

“Well come on then, daylight’s burning,” Vasiliy said.

* * *

 

 The four of them made their way across town. The professor had tucked the lumen away after the three of them had taken the elevator. Myla guessed that perhaps the professor didn’t quite trust Quinlan yet.

Either way, everyone needed bullets, silver, guns. Alonso was convinced it was practically currency.

When they arrived, Vasiliy parked a block away. All of them cautious to their surroundings. There were abandoned cars and luggage across the street, but no one really in sight.

“Let’s make this quick, yeah?” Vasiliy said.

Myla was relieved when she saw racks of clothing along the street from a clearance sale that had never seemed to end. At the end of a rack was a small tan coat that fit her just well enough. She stopped to put it on, finally feeling a little relief from the bitter cold.

“What?” she said, noticing Vasiliy stare.

“Looting again,” he said.

“What. You all have coats,” she said. “I’m freezing everywhere I go.”

“Well, who came to New York in the fall?”

“Who made me ‘flee’ Alonso’s to jump on a truck that was doomed to crash? Perhaps proper outerwear wasn’t on my mind at the time. Plus this one’s cute, yeah?” she said smiling.

Vasiliy rolled his eyes as the rest of them carried on. They slipped through the alley to the back of the store. The door was locked.

“I can slip through the window,” Myla said. “In case there’s an alarm.”

“No.” Vasiliy quickly said shaking his head.

“No, she’s right. We can’t risk an alarm.” the professor said. 

“The place could be full of Strigoi,” Vasiliy said. 

“If she’s quiet, she could let us in before any of them know she’s there,” Quinlan said. “It’s better that way, the four of us surprising them.”

Vasiliy was about to object again before he realized Myla was already halfway through the window. 

‘Myla!” Vasiliy angrily whispered.

Myla just smiled before slipping through the rest of the window and disappearing. 

Vasiliy swallows and looked at the sky as he began to count the seconds that she was gone. 

The heavy metal ground against the lock as she released it. 

Vasiliy took in a breath of relief.

“There’s a few upstairs, you can smell them,” she said.

The three men followed her into the building. Finding the first floor to be filled with broken stocks and barrels. They headed upstairs, each of them unaware of the bookcase that hid away the basement. But the strigoi were their current problem.

They found their way to the above floor, Quinlan swinging his sword cutting down the undead like they were pieces of paper. Any that even came close to Myla were tagged by Vasiliy with his piece of rebar, and Abraham’s sword to finish them off. 

They made a good team, Myla had felt... useless without a melee weapon, but she was more than ready to discharge her weapon if they had needed it. 

The dead was once again a reminder of this morning. But just as soon as they had entered the place, they had rid it of any and all strigoi creatures. They had begun to fill their bags with bullets. Quinlan upgraded his Uzi mags to larger capacities. While Vasily tried to convince Myla to carry a shotgun on her back, and she only agreed if he would shorten it for her. 

“It can be a useful weapon. When many of them are upon you...” Quinlan said.

“Alright...  I can handle it. The kickback is a bitch, but it’s worth the spray.” she told him.

She packaged the sawed-off in her bag. Happy that they had cared enough to equip her with a powerful weapon.

It had been a simple affair, the four of them acquiring new weapons and plenty of bullets. In fact... it had been pleasant. Vasily had been happy to give her advice, show her the difference between a lethal kill to a strigoi and human. But Myla picked it up quickly, happy to learn from him, in fact... grateful.

It was dusk when they headed down to the first floor. They had all felt relaxed, in fact, invincible with their new cache of weapons. It had been the bookcase that had eluded them. None of them realizing a basement was even part of the floor-plan. Vasiliy had gestured to the first floor but was unaware of the ajar door that awaited them. Dusk meant that shadows were cast, and the strigoi had begun to make their way from the basement level.

Vasiliy hadn’t noticed. But Myla had, and so had Quinlan. But Myla had been the first to put herself between her brother and an infected stinger...

 

It was quick. Fairly painless too, as the stringer pierced her chest. It was the sensation she found odd, her blood pulling to her chest, exiting through the small wound... 

Then there was Quinlan, his sword cut through the stinger, severing it from its owner. While the creature recoiled in pain, Quinlan’s hands gripped the remnants of the stinger to pull it from her chest - worms and blood covered his fingers - it ran down her chest, soaking into her new shirt. 

The last ten seconds had felt like an eternity to her, she could hear Vasiliy behind her... she knew the last thing she wanted to do was look at his face. She could already picture the way his eyebrows would be furrowed. She knew Vas was going to get angry before he could calm down. 

His baby sister. Dead before he’d even gotten to know her.

Myla took a breath, back now - time running as it normally did. Quinlan had turned to finish the Strigoi that had surprised Vasiliy. 

Myla looked at Vas. She could see he felt sorrow - how many times had that been separated as children... 

“Myla-” Vasiliy began.

Myla shook her head. “Let’s keep moving, yeah?” 

They could all hear them coming from the basement. There was no time for apologies, goodbyes, just enough time to make a run for it.

“They know we’re here. The master saw us.” Quinlan said.

Quinlan was the first to take the lead, Vasiliy at a loss for words, and unable to communicate his gratitude along with an apology followed behind Myla who followed Quinlan, as helpless first, and gradually she began to smack a few strigoi's here and there - getting them out of there as quickly as possible.

Daylight was a welcomed sight - perhaps not by Quinlan, as he shaded himself with his hood and put on his sunglasses. There was their nearby car, large enough to hold them all - and the equipment they had been carrying. 

Vasiliy instinctively still took the driver’s seat, unable to say anything yet. As Myla took a seat in the back she could see his fists were gripping the steering wheel hard enough to turn his knuckles white. 

Quinlan was the last to shut his door, taking the backseat with Myla, his look stern, saying nothing - as was usual.

Was this really going to be how the last few hours of her life were going to go?

“Myla,” Setrakian said. “Words cannot express my gratitude for what you did back there to save your brother. And Mr. Fet - I am... I am very...  sorry for your loss.”

Myla lifted her hand from her chest to examine the wound. “Still here guys,” she said flatly, she was disgusted at the sight of the wound. Worms stuck to her hand, wiggling, and crawling...

Vasiliy began to bang his fist against the steering wheel. 

“Just get me back to the apartments Vas. If I’m going to go out, I’d like to have a drink.” Myla said. She’d spent a year without a single drink, but she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to have one the day she died.

“Maybe a vodka, hm?” Vasiliy said.

“Yeah. A vodka.” Myla said. 

The ride was silent, Setrakian and Quinlan feeling as though they were in the middle of a family tragedy that should be somehow honored with silence. Myla could still feel worms wiggling beneath her fingers. It made her feel sick... it made her angry. After everything she’d given up to do better - and it was all for naught.

Vasiliy pulled into the parking garage at the Olympians - Myla kept her eyes out for more Strigoi hiding in the shadows as she made her way to the elevator - still packing the shotgun she’d found as if she was still going to use it like she had planned. Vasiliy hadn’t gotten out of the driver's seat yet. So Myla took the elevator to the top floor. 

* * *

 

Once the elevator door shut, Vasiliy looked in the rear-view mirror. Quinlan still sitting there, as if he knew what Vasiliy was going to ask him. 

“I can take care of her... before she turns if that is what you wish,” Quinlan said.

“I don’t like you Q. But I have to admit - I can’t put a gun to my baby sisters head. Even though I know what she’ll become, even though I know it’s saving her from being one of them - and keeping us safe from the Master’s eyes.”

“I would not wish that fate on anyone,” Quinlan said. 

“Neither would I,” Setrakian added.

Vasiliy nodded then, tears brimming in his eyes as he exited the car and made his way to the elevator.

When the elevator reached the top, the could all see Myla at the bar. The tumbler was smeared with blood, the clear liquid inside was pristine and untouched. In her other hand, a cigarette, menthol, smoke billowing around her face. Vasiliy took out his own tumbler and poured himself a drink, and one for the professor. Vasiliy turned to Quinlan, offering him one as well, but Quinlan shook his head.

For the formality Myla supposed.

Quinlan kept his distance, stepping back to let the human have their ritual before ending the girl's life. She had been kind to him, and he’d admit that she was good to have around. She could talk sense to the professor, and she was even a good shot. 

Quinlan could smell her blood on his hands and wanted to be free of its stains. He rubbed them together, trying to remember when he had fed last, but the blood he smelled wasn’t appetizing at all - _was he even hungry?_

Quinlan looked at the blood that had run down her shirt, slightly dried now - starting to turn brown. His eyes drifted to her feet, a few blood droplets stained her jeans, her sneakers...

But the floor...

He had noticed it in the car but hadn’t thought anything of it until now.

The way the worms stuck to her hands wiggled through her fingers... they weren’t burrowing _in._

And now at Myla’s feet, there were several dead worms. Shriveled, coiled... _dry... dead._

“Mr. Fet, do you still carry your compact UV light?” Quinlan asked.

Fet took it out of his pocket and placed it on the bar beside him.

“Seeing how long we have left?” Fet asked.

Quinlan clicked on the light, testing its intensity before moving forward. It hurt his eyes but would be fine for the time being. Myla had been covering the wound on her chest since she’d received it. The light passed over her for a moment, Quinlan already could tell this wasn’t normal.

Myla moved her hand away reluctantly, she tossed back the rest of her drink. 

Quinlan abruptly tore open her shirt from neck to navel. 

Shock quickly registered across Myla and Vasiliy’s faces. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Vasiliy asked. Myla’s buttons were broken, her rather lacey bra now on display to her brother and two strangers.

“Well, a drink, a cigarette, and now _this.”_ Myla chuckled. “I suppose that’s a hell of a way to go out, but if you’re _offering_.”

“Myla!” Vasiliy said

“Only joking...” Myla said. An eyebrow raised, perhaps suggesting otherwise. 

Quinlan realized she wasn’t entirely joking since her chest had been exposed to him, her heart had begun to race, her cheeks flushed - and that smile on her face read flattery. 

Quinlan pretended not to notice as he studied her wound under UV. Her skin was clean, no infestation of worms, they hadn’t multiplied, they had been crawling to exit the same wound they had been given as an entrance.

Quinlan quickly plucked out the next worm that had shown it’s ugly head. He held it between his fingers, it gave one last twisting motion before falling limp.

Quinlan turned around to show the professor and Mr. Fet.

“They are dying,” Quinlan said.

Setrakian looked at the worm, bewildered.

“Are there more?” The professor asked.

“They are dead. On the floor here.” Quinlan said. “They’ve left her body to die.”

Myla held her shirt together at the center, suddenly feeling like even more of a spectacle than before.

“Have you ever seen anything like this Professor?” Vasiliy asked.

“Not in my lifetime. No.” Setrakian said.

“Neither have I,” Quinlan stated.

 


	4. Silver

The next morning Myla woke up, realizing she was still on the couch where she had pretended to fall asleep the night before. Everyone had been more than curious to know why Myla seemed to have an immunity to the worms. But she didn’t have any answers. 

She was too preoccupied with the idea of how close she came to death. The adrenaline had left her and all that was left in its wake was nicotine, and vodka. All she wanted to do was sleep.

Eventually she _pretended_ to fall asleep, and slowly the chatter amongst the men stopped, and they left her alone. Myla did suspect that Quinlan had been aware of her guise... as he had waited around the longest, even after Vasiliy had retired to the next room. Quinlan had even been kind enough to cover her with a blanket, something which she was grateful for.

Now it was morning, the professor sat across from her his nose buried in the Lumen.

She supposed she would go down to the kitchen and make a pot of coffee and prepare herself for another round of questioning later on.

“Professor, can I bring you a cup?” 

He didn’t look up from the Lumen. But he nodded his head.

Myla made her way down the hall.  Wholeheartedly grateful that this kitchen still had fresh ground coffee. She brewed a pot and then carried the carafe back with her, from her pack she pulled out the same blue bottle that she did every morning, and added a few drops to her coffee. 

And then it hit her. Over a year of this. It was normal to her... not something out of the ordinary.

Myla’s fist tightened around the bottle. The number ‘8’ written on the side in silver sharpie. 

Eight meant it was the last of eight bottles in total. From a regimen, she had started back in rehab. 

Now it was obvious why the worms had died.

_**Silver**._

Myla walked back to the Professor, finding that he had put the book down for a moment to pick up his cup.

“I think I know the answer now, Professor.”

“And what is that my dear?”

“Silver,” she said with a smile. Myla pulled the dropper from the bottle, showing him the clear liquid.

“Colloidal Silver.” the Professor said. “That makes sense if one used it for an extended period of time.”

“Perhaps a year?” Myla asked.

“Yes. A year would give the silver sufficient time for the silver to adhere to multiple cells throughout your entire body. Burying itself in the major organs the worms would attack first. Causing them to get sick... and die.” The professor smiled, he wondered why had hadn’t been more curious about colloidal silver years ago. “If you don’t mind me asking, why have you used this for a year?” 

“It’s the only thing that kept me from using,” Myla said.

“They used it as an experimental treatment I take it?” the Professor asked.

“Yeah, a damn experiment of all things. _Colloidal Silver_... but it worked, it really did.” Myla said. “I’d never felt better.”

“I imagine that there is a time to stop your treatment?” he asked, “That is if you don’t want to turn blue.”

Myla laughed. “Yes actually, that’s the last bottle there. A series of 8, spread over 16 months, some doses small, others larger.”

“So you’re weaning then.”

“Once that bottle is gone, then I’m off it, yeah.”

“Should be interesting to see how long your immunity to the worms lasts.” The professor said. “I can see it now... in your eyes, I wondered how they had become such a bright shade of blue.”

“Least I’m safe for the time being,” Myla said.

“Perhaps you should check for any signs of worms with the UV. Make sure none have overstayed their welcome. Just to be sure.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Can I get you any food first, professor?”

“No, I have spent enough time away from the Lumen. Perhaps after you’ve cleaned up, you could look at translating a few things. That is if you think you can.”

“I’d be happy to try,” she told him.

Myla left the room, catching Vasiliy in the hall.

“Leaving already?” she asked.

“No just smelled that coffee,” Vasiliy said. “Though I’d help myself.”

“Well you’d better be quick, I left it with the professor and he’ll drink the whole pot,” Myla said smiling. “Glad you’re still here Vas.” 

“I’m glad you made it through the night. I had one too many drinks, and found myself needin' a place to sleep.” he said stretching his arms behind his back.

“Well stick around for a bit, I’m going to clean up, and then maybe we can... go take that trip up to mom and dads?”  she asked.

“Yeah sure, let's see about later,” Vasiliy said. Myla could tell by his tone that it wasn’t high on his list of things he wanted to do.

“You don’t want to?” she asked

“I guess I just don’t want to give you a reason to stick your neck out for me again.” he told her. “I gotta tell you Myla, I don’t know... what I woulda done-”

“It’s fine Vas,” she said. “I’m here.”

“Did the professor say anything? Are we sure they’re all gone?”

“I’m going to go clean up and do a once-over with your light,” she said. “Then we’ll know for sure.”

Vasiliy gave her a hug. 

“Believe me Vas. You’ve taken care of me many times over, _and then some_.” she said.

“You’re the little one, I’m supposed to take care of you. Not the other way around,” he told her. “Maybe you’re stronger than I give you credit for, eh?”

“I better be,” she said smiling. “If you think I’m supposed to tote around that big gun.” Myla laughed. 

“I’ll even show you how to use it,” Vasiliy told her.

“Okay, I’ll hold you to that.” she said grinning, “See you in a bit.” 

 

* * *

 

Myla finished her coffee while the water warmed up.  She picked up a few clothing items before locking the door. She watered her orchid and neatly folded her clothes before she stepping into the warm water. The pressure could have been better, but at least there was warmth. The water ran pink around her ankles while the dried blood washed off her belly and out of her hair. 

There was a small bar of lavender soap, and shampoo that smelled of lilies. As she washed she touched the scab now dry against her chest. Myla thought about Vas’s UV light sitting on the bathroom sink, ready to tell her if she was still infected or not. 

She turned off the water, and she took her time... toweling her body dry. Secretly afraid of what could come next.

When she was ready she turned on the light, starting at her feet. She moved slowly looking for anything that would glow against the harsh light. She could still remember the way they looked as they were swarming the wound on her chest. Her memory jumped to Quinlan’s fingers... they had touched her skin briefly after he’d torn her shirt. She was still surprised by the warmth of his hands. 

Myla strained her neck as she turned around... she had been able to check her entire body, but found that from the small of her back to her neck, she wasn’t going to be able to see without a second mirror.

While still struggling to twist her body into some fashion where she could see the light, she heard Vasiliy enter the bedroom. Myla opened the bathroom door, a towel wrapped tightly around her figure. She quickly became flushed and embarrassed as Quinlan did nothing but stare at her, and she did nothing but stare at him.

“I’m so sorry - I thought-” she began.

“Just retrieving some of my things...” Quinlan said.

Myla clicked off the UV light, she could feel the heat from it emanating from her towel. She looked back at her folded clothes, sitting there, and the mirror she had just struggled with.

“Could...” Myla took in a deep breath. What the hell was she thinking? She _did_ find Quinlan just a tad bit frightening. “Could you help me for a moment?” she asked as she bit the inside of her bottom lip. She felt awkward in front of him, but there was no way he found her attractive, right? 

Something about the way his eyes still hadn’t left her body told her maybe that wasn’t true.

“With?” he asked. His voice was deep. It vibrated all the way down to her knees.

“The professor insisted I check one more time, and I can’t... well see the back.”

“For the worms?” he asked casually, Myla noticed his eyes dart from her face to her feet. Did he just... _check her out?_

Myla was about to retract her offer suddenly she felt very naked under his eyes. In all her years of taking her clothes off, this moment had made her feel the most vulnerable. Perhaps she had read him wrong.

“If you please,” he stated, holding out his hand. Myla nearly jumped, she handed him the UV light and quietly turned around letting the towel slip just below her lower back. Her hand moved her dark brown hair off her back and around one shoulder. She inhaled sharply when she felt the warm UV ray cross her back.

Quinlan had nearly left the room the moment he had caught himself looking her up and down. _“It was the shower,”_ he told himself. He was never sure why but he’d always found the female form most attractive when it was slightly damp. The wet hair, dewy skin, it was beautiful to him.

He supposed that it was indeed best to check for worms for the safety of everyone staying here. And it would take but a few seconds, so why was he hesitating?

When she handed him the light, he had felt better. The light was giving him a purpose, this wouldn't be a problem. Well, it wasn’t a problem until he watched that towel slip down her back. It felt like it had happened in slow motion. 

_He tried to contain the rattle in his chest._

The first quick scan of her neck down and her back had revealed no worms. He leaned in, carefully making sure he detected no movement. He glanced at the tattoo she had on her left shoulder, a small dove in flight, then his gaze drifted to a mole above her right hip... then for reasons he couldn’t understand he found himself reaching out his thumb grazing a birthmark over her fourth rib. 

The touch was so light, he had been careful not to apply any amount of pressure. But immediately he felt her pulse quicken and watched as gooseflesh appeared over her arms and down her back. 

It seemed like neither of them had taken a breath until they both heard the audible ‘click’ of the light. 

“You seem to be free of infection,” he said, again in that low voice that could make her knees shake.

“Thank you, Mr. Quinlan,” she said tilting her head to the side. She realized the tilt had come from some strange desire to bow her head but caught in the act.

She turned and took the flashlight from his hand. She looked him in the eyes and smiled. 

Quinlan smiled back.

Myla turned away closing the bathroom door behind her, and Quinlan left the room as quickly as he could. He walked past the professor, ignoring Abraham who was inquiring about his leave. But Quinlan did not speak. He simply left, suddenly fearful of the thoughts he was having.

There were a few times during Quinlan’s lifetime that the Master would slip from all eyes and ears. While Quinlan waited, he would find himself slipping into the more human parts of himself. They had been something he’d practiced to repress, but just once in a while he'd find himself craving water, enjoying the scent of a flower, and even longing for the company of a woman. 

He didn't particularly care for these few years where his purpose was put on hold, that meant a life had to be lived, _his life._ His mother had taught him many things about who and what he was, and she always reminded him that his human traits were his greatest asset. The strigoi in him made him a hunter... and Quinlan always found it easier to play the part of the animal. Some part of him had believed that he could be a hunter - one good enough to ensnare the Master, but every so often a deep part of him would long to be free... but his human self had a way of feeling pain Quinlan would rather just forget.

After Tasa, it had been the most painful. Life was full of complicated emotions and she would always be a reminder of how painful life could be, and what he could never truly have. Sometimes he thought the Human part of himself was a greater curse.

When his human side fell... _in love_ with Tasa _,_ his purpose became to protect her and their daughter. He had been happy to give up a life as a warrior for a simple life as a farmer. Protecting them had made him the happiest he’d ever been in his entire life. Loving them had made him happy. That love was what made the rest of his life so difficult. He would never be the same again after them, always glaringly aware of what he would never have, and that his human life would always go on... unfulfilled. 

He had tried, many times to live a life that might make him happy. Sharing a bed with beautiful women, buying land in Rome, Paris, Istanbul... anywhere he fancied. 

And as his life went on, and the master was silent. He felt the echo of what would one day come to pass. Any life he chose, any home, any woman could just as soon turn to ash in his mouth, whenever the Master chose to return.

He quickly learned it was better to not live life at all, rather than live half a life.

But all that still didn’t help him understand why the damn girl had coaxed a smile out of him. Or explain why he’d found himself breathing in that soap she had just washed with, or why his hand had lingered above that small birthmark...

Quinlan shrugged it off. Perhaps it had just been nice to be looked at. At least looked at where she didn’t stare at the strigoi marks on his neck or the tips of his ears... She had looked him in the eyes, and her eyes had been kind, and the color of the brightest blue he’d ever seen. 

For some reason when he looked at her, he wanted to feel the warm skin of another. To remember his old life with Tasa. To pretend like he wasn’t close to killing the master. Denying the fact that if the Master’s death was near, so was his. 

It had been so long since his life had been lived.

But this was certainly not the time. For his sake and everyone near him... it couldn’t be. Even if it was perhaps his last chance.

But it didn’t help when night had fallen and he found himself sticking around to help with translating the Lumen. Myla sat across from him. That soap still very much on her skin. He sat there imagining how it would smell all around him. He wanted to be enveloped by her scent, by her caress, nestled in a sea of her brown hair. 

He left abruptly before either of them had gone to bed, realizing that his thoughts had become in synch with her steady pulse, he realized it had been a while since he had fed. Perhaps these urges were just primal, mixed in with his lust for blood, and the poor girl had to be the subject of his thoughts, simply because he was hungry.

* * *

 

Myla had felt strange after the interaction with Quinlan. She had felt him touch her... in the smallest most, sensual way possible. She shrugged it off. She was alive. Nothing right now was about to affect the way she felt when it came to be free of those of damned worms. 

Myla left the bathroom, looking for Vasiliy. She’d found the coffee pot to be empty and needing refreshing, but Vasily had been nowhere in sight

“Professor,” she stated.

“Yes, Myla?” he had responded without looking up from his book.

“Where’s Vas?” she asked.

“Ms. Feraldo called him over that radio of his and asked him to come over to the Mayfield.” he said. 

“Did he say anything?” Myla had asked.

“Not to my knowledge.” Abraham had said.

“So he just left,” she said. More so a whisper than a comment.

The professor didn’t respond. But she sat across from him anyway.

“No worms,” she stated.

“That’s good to hear, my dear,” he said. “Maybe perhaps we will add your new found information into the Lumen ourselves.” the professor said. “And if you’d still like to look at a few pages, you are welcome to these here. They are Polish, I understand them, but if you... notice any discrepancies, I would like to know.” 

“You don’t trust yourself professor?” she asked.

“As old as I am, I don’t trust much my dear, who knows what I may miss.”

Myla was silent as she looked over the cryptic pages. She didn’t feel very helpful once again. Sure, some things she recognized... but it had been a while since she had heard her mother’s stories. Myla had hoped a trip to their apartment would allow Myla to at least obtain her mother’s journals. 

But Myla realized where ever her mother had gone meant that those journals were with her. Her mother’s stories would be lost until they were reunited. 

Quinlan had sat with them for a short while before leaving of his own accord. Myla tried not to pay much attention to him, as his presence didn’t do anything but distract her. Curiosity was going to kill her.

Where did that man come from, what kind of life had he lived?

* * *

 

Quinlan pulled up his hood when dawn came. Now that he had fed his head felt much clearer. He could sense the Master, he’d grown stronger now since the Professor had injured him. Quinlan could feel that now, as before he could not. 

On the walk back he’d passed by a pawn shop. Noticing the silver in the window he thought about his past, his future... But all those thoughts faded to the back of his mind when he saw a short silver sword behind the counter. He broke the glass to the door. The security gate hadn’t been drawn, leading him to believe the owner had either fled or turned. 

Quinlan obtained the sword easily, latching it do his back before he stepped into the back to find a nest of five sleeping in a circle. In two swipes of his sword, he had decapitated all five of them. He pocketed the keys to the shop and decided it was best to lower the gate in case they would like to return to this shop unhindered. Quinlan made his way back to New York City. He wondered how humans had grown accustomed to this sort of grotesque architecture. It was clearly a factory, already made for breeding humans to a large capacity. It was like they were practically begging for the master to choose their city as his home.   

Quinlan climbed one concrete roof to the next, eventually grabbing onto the Olympians fire escape before pulling himself up to the roof. It was still morning. The sun was quite beautiful at this hour, it was bright, difficult to look at, but it did create a very soft glow over the grey concrete he had grown to hate.

Quinlan turned to the entrance of the roof. Finding Myla asleep on a short sweater. It was bundled under her head, giving her some sort of support, Quinlan stepped next to her, she didn’t stir. How late her and the professor had been up, he wasn’t sure, but perhaps she had tried to stay up till sunrise.

Quinlan lifted her easily, deciding the gravel rooftop was no place for her to sleep. He carried her back to the room he had seen her in earlier. He laid her down on the bed Vasiliy had occupied the night before. 

She did stir. But for a moment. It seemed she had no idea where she had been, who had moved her, or where she was now.

Before he left, he set the new silver sword he had acquired against the nightstand. He had told himself it was for his own collection. But seeing her now, he knew it had been for her all along. She had needed it that night she was stung, and if she wanted to save her own life or the lives of others, it would be the best weapon for her to do so.

Part of him wanted to be the one to show her how to wield it. 

But what would that accomplish? Nothing but putting them in close proximity for an amount of time that could easily take him back to the thought he had before. She was a kind girl, and he desperately hoped she’d outlive the Master’s reign. If he had anything to do with it, he would make sure she, the professor, and everyone that came after them would be safe. Despite all the death that surrounded them, Quinlan vowed that he would at least protect these kind people. 

Why their kindness had intrigued him, he did not know. But he did find that it gave him hope. A book, a simple book could be used to end the master... perhaps with a little patience and a little strategy a team effort would help him avenge the life he once hoped to live. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *still pre- Season 3. I wanted to make a bit of a stretch of time where everyone settles in and does their own thing.


	5. Choices

A silver sword looked just like any other. It was reflective, the hilt an even weight to the blade. Myla had unsheathed it and stared at it for nearly an hour. A slight filigree decorated the handle finished with a leather grip. Something that had been made with exceptional craftsmanship. Myla would have assumed Vasiliy had left it for her, but she had awoken when Quinlan set her down on the bed. Not to mention that she knew her brother well enough that he would have supplied her with a piece of re-bar, before a sword.

Why Quinlan had done something kind for her, she did not know. But she appreciated it nonetheless. 

To wield it was another story. A few girls she had worked with got in the habits of carrying a small knife in their purse, and even a few of them had guns, but never a sword.

Myla fed herself and the professor that morning. The two of them ate silently while looking over pages of the Lumen. Myla wasn’t much help with the translations, not when Quinlan and the Professor were nearly fluent in the many languages it was written in any way. But she tried to be helpful with her dictionaries and printer.

Quinlan joined them shortly after their breakfast. Myla hadn’t even registered his presence in the room until he spoke.

“Professor, did you read anything more about the sun hunters?” Quinlan asked.

“No, to my knowledge there is only the short paragraph about them. It seemed the _servants_ of the seven were of lesser concern to the author than their masters.”

“A simple few sentences?” he asked.

“Perhaps it is the human element of the sun hunters that bored the author’s interest. Sun Hunters could pity humans, Sun Hunters weren’t always a threat, so long as the one they serve isn’t commanding them.”

“That's...” 

“...Disappointing?” the professor asked.

“Something like that,” Quinlan said. 

“This book is said to be cursed.” The professor sighed. “Meant to bring death and disaster to anyone who reads it. The amount of page space allotted to your kind - is something I wouldn’t worry about.”

 _Kind._ she thought. _There were more like him._  

She fumbled through the copies in her lap, looking at the images of those who served the Ancients, the symbol of a risen sun was shown, their pale skin and scarred faces were clear markers.

This page certainly illustrated a life that Myla hadn’t imagined for Quinlan or for anyone. She saw humans as slaves, their captors wearing the ancients mark, chains around their necks.

“The ancients may have once been menacing to some, but they are but a shell of what they once were. I can happily say that they are no longer a concern.” Quinlan added. 

“That may be true. But that may change should they decide they want this book back.” the Professor said. 

“I think I would find their attempt laughable,” Quinlan stated.

Myla looked at the beings on the page. ‘ _The Strix.’_ it read. They looked menacing enough to her. 

Seven brothers spread over an eternity and the entire world. Their virus coveted, worshipped, and most of all... feared. She read the rules made for one another. Myla was looking over the pages that Quinlan had already gone over, the prints were marked up, noted in delicate handwriting were his translations. His detailed descriptions of the ancients and their ways really did describe a world hidden to her and those like her. 

Those stories her mother told her were indeed, just exaggerations. But very real.

Myla read through them in a daze. An entire world had undergone this plague while it remained nothing more than a myth. Myla scanned the stories page by page. Practically lost in their words. Time went by quickly. The three of them were silent, except the occasional question or comment. When night had fallen, Quinlan excused himself. And Myla went to the kitchens to make a supper for her and the professor. 

She mixed up a simple stew, letting the meat simmer for as long as she could to try and alter the canned taste.  Myla tried to remember her grandmother’s recipe, but to re-create it with canned food was a challenge. But she was flattered when the smell had made the Professor set down the Lumen and join her in the kitchen.

“It smells like something my wife would make.” The professor said sadly. Myla brought him a bowl and spoon. “It was a roast, not a stew, but the spices were the same.” 

“The peas and turnips were canned. So was the meat.” Myla said shyly. “I don’t know if it’ll be all that good. But there was some Aleppo pepper believe it or not - hopefully, that will do it some justice.”

“It’ll do just fine, thank you Myla,” he told her. “Your mother taught you all this?” he asked.

“Yes, we would cook my grandmother’s recipes together. And she would tell me her stories while we made dinner. Cooking used to be my favorite thing to do as a child. It made me feel useful.” Myla was lost in a memory of standing on a stool kneading dough while her mother cut tomatoes for Potaptsi. “We would cook a lot together... my mother was my best friend.”

Myla silently wondered if she was still alive.

“Vasiliy... wasn’t around much?” he asked. 

“We are... ten years apart, so growing close was always hard for us. What little relationship we did have seemed to dissipate when he was in college.” 

“Is that why you two are so separated from one another?” he asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.” 

“That... among other reasons,” Myla said. “When he went away to study architecture, he was busy, and I was trying to work and go to school. It really all came down to him and our father.” Myla pushed around the food in her bowl as she recalled her father shouting at Vasiliy over the phone. Myla could remember the cruel things their father had said to Vasiliy.

A shiver ran down her spine as she realized those words were eventually meant for her.

“Vasiliy told me your father didn’t much appreciate his career choice.”

“No, to say the least. But it’s what Vasiliy loved for some reason.” Myla remembered her brother happy... proud to be good at his job. Myla remembered how much she had resented him for it.  “None of it was his fault really. I even tried to follow in Vas’s footsteps despite the plans our father had for us.”

“You... wanted to be a rat catcher too?” Setrakian asked sarcastically.

“No,” she said smiling. “I wanted to be in the Ballet if you could believe it. Our neighbor Mrs. Crovolas gave my mother two tickets to the Russian Ballet. I couldn’t have been more than ten. My father didn’t want to go, so naturally, she took me. We took the bus into the city - and I fell in love that night. It’s all I wanted to do after that. My mother couldn't get me to sweep unless I could pirouette across the floor.” 

Setrakian gave a small chuckle. It pained him to remember his daughter once did the same thing many, many years ago. 

“I went to a ballet academy in the city. And my father was furious. He said if I wasn’t going to be a ‘proper’ wife I needed to do something important with my education.”

“I think all children are meant to drive their parents mad at one point or another,” Setrakian said. 

“It did make me happy. Vasiliy had taught me that was important.” Myla took a bite of the stew. Content with its taste. She thought back to the Sunday’s she spent at Coney Island with him. She remembered being small enough to sit on his shoulders, and that he was tall enough at sixteen to nearly knock her into the signs that hung from eateries on the boardwalk. Myla grimaced when she ate a bite of unmixed pepper from her stew. And just like that, her fond memory turned gray. “When our mom got sick I thought Vas would be around a lot more. But he wasn’t. After all the hospital visits and bedside care, it started to take a toll on what I was trying to accomplish. And since Vasiliy was happy, I chose to sacrifice what I was doing and get a job.”

“So you gave up on your dream?” 

“Not completely I guess some would argue. I still danced, just not so... professionally,” she said through her teeth.  

“Like at a nightclub,” he said flatly. Abraham briefly remembered such an establishment in Amsterdam. A trail that had lead him very close to Thomas Eichorst. But instead left him madder than the day he had lost Miriam. 

“I had a friend from the academy that worked at the Green Fairy. She liked working there. But if I’m honest I hated every minute of it. I was so nervous my first night, I had to have several drinks first. I suppose that was the start of it all.” she sighed, taking another bite of stew. How very different her life could be. 

“If you hated it, why did you stay?” he asked. 

Myla shrugged her shoulders. “Woke up the next day with a wallet full of cash. I was able to take seven past due bills and pay them outright.” Myla was still proud of that accomplishment, even to this day, even after everything it had cost her. 

“Your parents were okay with you making money that way, to pay their bills?”

“Oh god no. I lied to them. I told them I was waitressing at one of those open twenty-four hours places.” Myla sighed. “The money was so easy I kept going back - I would wait a few weeks to give the illusion I had ‘saved’ my tips and then I’d go pay off another bill. It was really... really helping, bills for entire hospital stays were gone, just like that.” 

“Love is our grace, Myla. It will always make us to some of the worst things we can do.” The professor told her. “And sometimes it’s necessary to get our hands dirty to protect or avenge the ones we love.” 

The conversation turned silent after that. The Professor ate spoonful after spoonful, as did Myla. 

“I think I will retire upstairs and get a few more pages in before I turn in for the night.” The professor said. “Thank you for the company, and the stew,” he said.

“I think I’ll head to the roof,” she said. “I need some fresh air before I turn in.”

* * *

 

Myla found herself overlooking the city. The fires that burned off in the distance were a faint orange against the dark sky. The colors would be quite beautiful if they hadn’t signified such death. Myla had brought the small sword with her, getting used to the weight in her hands, wondering what would be the best form of attack. Should she stab? Swing?  

She’d never liked weapons before. She’d never wanted to hurt another person as long as she lived... at least she never wanted to _again._

 

_These aren’t people anymore. She knew that._

_They’re not people._  

_They’re not people._

 

Myla outstretched her arm the sword in one hand. 

“Should you need to avoid their stingers, or... should you need to keep them away from anyone else... that is the distance you should keep between you,” Quinlan said from behind her.

Myla jumped, the roof was lined with gravel, yet he was still as silent as ever.

“You should really work on _not_ sneaking up on people,” she said.

“Maybe you should work on listening,” Quinlan said.

He was like a gargoyle, his stone colored skin perched on the edge of the roof. 

“I _was_ listening. Strigoi are noisy. You are not.” she said flatly.

“The most deadly predators are silent,” he told her. 

“You’re a predator are you?” she calls back to him. “Should I call out for help?” 

“That’s hardly necessary,” he said. “Unless you find me threatening.” Quinlan added, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Myla turned around to face him this time. Realizing his comment had been very truthful, while hers had meant to be a light joke. Despite all he’s lived through, she didn’t think for a moment about the negatives of living a life such as his. 

“I- I’m sorry others have treated you that way,” she told him.

“You’re sorry?” he stated, _“for them?_ ”

“No, my apologies are for you, not them,” she said. “I realize now, the world has probably not been kind to you.”

“You’re only realizing this now?” he asked, a slight smile on his face.

“All day reading that book, and all I could wonder about was what sort of things you’ve seen, where you’ve been... what was your favorite place to be...”

“You wondered... _all that?”_ he asked quietly. 

“Of course I did,’’ she said looking him in the eye. “What would any normal person wonder?” 

“Usually they ask if I am a Demon. Or if I’m going to kill them. That is if they get around to asking questions.”

Myla was silent for a moment, the distance between them seemed strained. Was he trying to warn her?

“I do appreciate the way you’ve treated me,” Quinlan said. “And the professor.” was quickly added. “You have been a breath of fresh air amongst humans, and I hope that you accept the sword as a simple thank you.”

“It’s too beautiful to serve as a simple _‘thank you,”_ she said. 

“It’s silver,” he said before walking around to her side. “You stepped in front of your brother so quickly... and I knew that if you had a sword, even a small one, you could have defended him... and yourself.” 

“I guess being lucky paid off in a manner of speaking,” she said smiling. Her teeth were the prettiest color of white, she tucked her hair behind her ear and her cheeks began to turn a rosy pink. 

“I only hope your luck lasts,” Quinlan said truthfully. “I could show you a few things. If you’d like.”

“Yes, of course!” she exclaimed. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” Myla clutched her sword, excited to learn something from someone so knowledgeable. 

“First, the sword must be an extension of your arm,” he said as he stepped towards her. For the first time since she’d met him, he seemed at ease. “You must always treat it as such.”

“What if I drop it?” she asked outstretching her arm.

“Can you drop your arm? he asked.

“I suppose not,” she said.

“That is how you will learn to wield it,” he said. His body frame was close to hers now, as he mimicked her stance without his sword. When she didn’t pull away, he instinctively placed his arm parallel to hers. “When you treat it as part of you, it becomes you.”

Myla breathed in sharply. 

“It’s lightweight, your wrist may tire, but your arm can hold it,” he said gripping her wrist. “Your fingers can hold it.”

“How-” she said, nervous now. “How do I... _kill_ something with it?”  

Quinlan caught her hesitation. In one move, he put distance between them unsure if it was him or the thought of killing that had made her uneasy. Either way, a step back was for the best. But, Myla closed the distance between them as she stepped towards him. 

“It comes in two moves,” he stated. “You always move your feet, no matter what you’re doing with your arm. That way your body can defend itself while your arm attacks your assailant.” 

“Like a dance?” she asked.

“Yes... move your feet like in a dance,”  he told her. “That way you can be light on your feet. You move, you swing.”

“Okay. I can do that,” she said.  

“Show me,” he said.

“But you’re too fast,” she stated. 

“I will... make it easy for you,” he added as he pulled away from her frame to face her. 

Myla put up her sword. Quinlan quickly knocked it from her grasp.

“I said two moves,” he told her. “That was only one.”  

She was smiling.  

“I assure you. Your enemies cannot be combated by a smile.”  
  


 _Except maybe him_. He did find her smile quite distracting.  
  


This time she turned away from him. Attempting a proper stance. No, a stance that a dancer would take... graceful, calm.  Maybe she’d be a quick learner. 

She had coaxed another smirk from him. Something he quickly hid behind a slow attack, an attack she moved from, before striking back. She gracefully stepped to his right before mimicking a downward attack at his midsection. She moved a bit slow but was getting the idea.  

The girl reminded him of the arena. Back when new slaves were brought in to fight. Many were bought not because they were fighters, but simply because they would make a good spectacle of death. 

Quinlan pitied those slaves. And he often liked to give them a fighting chance by teaching them a few things.

In his youth, he had known little about being a warrior, after being born an animal, mute and bloodthirsty. Just as his mother had been. He would have killed anything in sight to help the two of them survive. But when he became a slave and entered the arena... he learned that there is honor in fighting. He learned that the men around him respected his fighting power, despite how different he looked. 

 _“Belator Candidus.”_ they had chanted, _The White Warrior._

In Rome, he learned to take pride in being a gladiator. He admired other fighters, just as they admired him. He had even enjoyed his years training Sun Hunters for many years. And now sharing it once again with someone willing to learn, he felt that pride once more. 

“Myla, you’re doing better.” he would tell her. “But swing harder. You won’t break the skull with that sort of force.

So she would swing harder.

“Now faster, Myla.”

And she would swing faster.

After a short while, she was panting and sweating, but still holding her sword.

“Perhaps we should take a break,” he said. “Save your strength for another night.” 

“I can...” she panted. “I can still fight.” 

“I know,” he said. “And that thought will keep you alive one day. But for tonight, you should rest.” 

Myla looked relieved as she sheathed her sword.

“Thank you Mister Quinlan,” she said giving him one last smile, one that clearly displayed how tired she was. 

Quinlan nodded as she turned to leave him. Myla entered the stairwell, her hands shaky and tired. But she had appreciated the lesson nonetheless. Quinlan had been right, a sword was paramount to fighting these things. But she couldn’t shake the fear she still held in her heart. She had killed one man before all this.  

Killing more wasn’t exactly on her to do list. 

 _They’re not people._ she told herself once more.

That night, she slept soundly, tired from her practice. But for the first time in what seemed like a long time, she achieved actual rest.

Her regrets had managed to keep her awake for several years now. A lot of her sleep had been robbed from her due to many bad choices she had made in life. And today, talking to the professor and putting effort into learning how to use her sword had brought her a small peace. Something she would choose to cherish.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the longer wait than usual. Had a little trouble mapping out some outlines, and couldn't help myself from buying the Dark Horse Comics that portray Mister Quinlan. They were fantastic and are only 2.99 an issue, incase you feel like indulging yourself on some well drawn comics.


	6. Friend

Myla woke up tired and sore the next morning. However, just after a few hours of sleep, she was ready to keep trying. Her last night in New York had never mulled around in her head as much as it did now that she was staying at the Olympian. She had been attending extensive therapy sessions in Virginia but was unable to work through many issues to due to the fear of being thrown in jail. 

Despite those fears, she still made her way to New York just a week after Regis flight 753 touched down. She had expected to get arrested, that was why she had contacted Alonso for help. She hoped a fake ID could keep her under the radar while she worried about her family. 

She could still hear the NBC news replaying stories of the mysterious ‘dead flight’ from Berlin to New York. Flown by Captain Doyle Redfern and Peter Moldstom. 

 _“Still no word as to whether this was a terrorist attack or a biological weapon...”_ Myla could still hear those words in the news anchor’s voice. After that there had been no question as to when she would pack her suitcase... _because she did_ , right then and there. She had blindly grabbed everything, checked herself out of rehab and purchased a bus ticket north. 

After all the group therapy, all the individual sessions... she had never once shared her darkest secret. For some reason, she thought Vasiliy was going to be the one she told. Perhaps that was why she craved his attention, and why she resented him for being gone... even though he was working with City Council and trying to stop this.

She found it difficult that she hadn’t had anyone to lean on in a very long time.

She had her morning shower and moved her rescued plant into the window frame in Vasiliy’s once claimed bedroom. It had been hers for longer than it had been his. So it seemed fair for her to move her things and take advantage of the available luxuries. Though her eyes lit up when she heard Vasiliy talking to the professor from outside the room. 

* * *

 

Vasiliy had left the Mayfield just before dusk, this time it was with a new fortified truck, a few cases of ammunition, and several trackers he had acquired at a nearby hunting shop. He had big plans for all of them. The ear tags he had already begun to attach to several strigoi around town, pinging beautifully with his new portable computer system. He was going to find out what these bastards were doing, and they were going to find the master, no matter what. With or without the Lumen. 

The second part was going to be tricky. Trackers were one thing, but the trap cameras were another story. He was going to need help with that part. Surveying the tunnels was a necessary part of his plan, but a more difficult part. Myla knew how to set trap cams, Vasiliy had taught her how at a young age. He figured a team of four, two groups to set cameras, meant that they could map a large part of tunnels in just a few short hours. 

This meant he had to ask for her help. And as the big brother, he wasn’t quite sure how to do that. He had always protected her and looked after her. She was the one that always needed his help. 

He could still remember when she was born, when she was in diapers, learning to walk. He had been old enough to remember it all. He loved his baby sister, but he had ended up caring for her like a parent, not a brother. At least he had wanted to be that much for her while their father was busy being a bitter man. 

He remembered trying to get her out of the house when she was little. Letting her play at the beach or taking her to Coney Island. But it was always just him and her, he was the responsible one trying to give her the childhood he never had. To have her in the middle of this plague and to watch her get stung by that Strigoi had nearly killed him. That entire night he had spent his time drinking and praying she would be okay. In the morning he had been elated, but he had merely given her a hug and a smile. 

He didn’t know why he did these things. And that’s why it scared him to ask for her help. The poor girl had always deserved more, and Vasiliy had never known how to give that to her. He called her name when he got to the top floor of the Olympian. She came running to him just like she had when she was a child.

 

* * *

 

"So we've got to go in those fucking tunnels," Myla said.

"Careful now, starting to sound like our old man," Vasiliy said.

"I'll be fine, it's just so god damn dark down there," Myla said. 

"Take a damn light, eh?" Vasiliy said. 

"Yeah, I've got a damn light," Myla said. “When are we going to go see mom?” 

Vasiliy stopped talking, looking at the floor. 

“The other day we were going to go and then you just left. So can we go soon?”

Vasiliy had felt bad about that... yes. But Vasiliy in truth was more afraid of what they might find. He had a hunch that their father hadn't taken his advice. Once again Vasiliy was trying to protect Myla.

“Of course, yeah we’ll go soon LuLu. I promise.”

“You know I hate it when you call me that,” she told him.

“Oh come on, it’s all in good fun,” he told her.

“I’m not a kid anymore Vas.” she snapped back. She crossed her arms... slightly childlike, so she quickly uncrossed them. Vasiliy’s nickname for her when she was little had often drove her mad as she’d gotten older.

“Yeah, not with that sword you’re not,” Vasiliy said. “Where’d you get that anyway?”

“Perhaps if you stuck around more, you’d know,” Myla said slyly.

“You even know how to use something like that?” he asked her.

“I’m sure it’s not much harder than swinging a piece of rebar around,” she told him. 

Vasiliy rolled his eyes again. Myla turned to walk away from him, “I’m going to get some food. Why don’t you let the professor know? He could use a little fresh air.”

“Let's leave at first light yeah,” Vasiliy called out. 

* * *

 

Myla had made the three of them some food for dinner. Vasiliy and the Professor shared few words, but both seemed to think that attempting to track the master could be beneficial. 

The rest of the evening, Vasiliy was wrapping cameras with cords and rope to hang them properly. Myla had understood how he’d wanted them to work, and quickly grew bored of camera crafts. But that was what Vasiliy had always been good at, stuff like this. No wonder they had given him a badge. 

When Vasiliy was engrossed in clearing data from some of the used cameras, Myla slipped away to the roof to practice the few moves Quinlan had taught her. If she was going to be helpful like Vasiliy, she was going to have to work at it. 

She was frustrated that her footwork seemed slow, she had high expectations for her feet having once relied on them to master dance after dance... but sometimes she would trip, ending up with palms filled with gravel. 

This made her frustrated, but she pressed on.

Myla's wrists _did_ get tired like Quinlan had told her. But her fingers were strong, and her arm could keep swinging. She worked at it for a few hours until the moon had risen, and she became distracted by the stars. Breathless and tired she grabbed the blanket she had left out here a few nights ago. She spread it out and took a break.

After all the destruction of the city... and in her life... the stars brought her some idea of peace.

She shut her eyes for a moment to still her labored breathing. 

“Is this becoming a habit of yours?” Quinlan asked as he appeared next to her silently once more.

“You could say that.” she's said coyly. She was ready for her reprimand. 

“It’s dangerous for you to be out here,” he told her. “This roof isn’t fortified in any such way. All it would take is for -”

“Yeah, yeah. Dangerous. I get it.” she chirped back. 

“Why are you out here every night?” he asked her.

Myla just pointed to the sky, overlooking the stars. “They always stay the same. It’s sort of refreshing to know at least the sky has its shit together.”

Quinlan looked up at the stars, s _he was right._

“The stars are ancient,” Quinlan said. “I’ve used them to navigate many nights.”

“Like on a ship?” she asked.

“I do not spend much time on the water,” Quinlan said. “But as a creature that hunts at night, they are of use to me.”

Myla looked back at him, she sat up on her elbows and patted the empty side of the blanket next to her. 

‘‘What can you tell me about them?” she asked eagerly. 

Quinlan was flattered that she seemed curious about his life but less so curious about his nature... and looks. She seemed infatuated with the stories he told of Rome, his accounts of battles... and now stars. 

Though he had just chastised her for lying atop the building to do something as silly at the sky, he found himself joining her. Setting his sword at his side, he lay next to her, a part of him slightly starved for the company. 

They were both silent for a moment. 

“I know that one,” she said as she pointed out Cassiopeia sitting upside down in her chair. 

“Do you know how she came to be that way?” Quinlan asked.

“No,” Myla said.

“She was a vain woman. Queen of Ethiopia. She had bragged about her beauty and claimed that she was more beautiful than the sea nymphs, and even Juno."

"Vanity..." Myla said. "One of those deadly sins."

"The Nereids and the Gods became insulted, so Neptune sent a sea monster to ravage the coast. The only way to appease Neptune’s wrath was to sacrifice their daughter.” 

“These... Gods.” Myla asked. “Are they your Gods?” 

Quinlan didn’t quite know how to answer the question. First, they had belonged to the Greeks, then to the Romans. They were the Gods he grew up hearing stories about, they were the Gods his comrades prayed to. They were Tasa and Sura’s Gods.

_But were they his?_

“I suppose you could say they are. I haven't prayed to a God in nearly two-thousand years. And when I did it was to curse them.” Quinlan paused, remembering the night that had broken him forever. “Being what I am... there are no Gods meant for me. I am born of darkness, and that is something the Gods have surely forsaken.”

Myla swallowed, “But you’re not... _like him_. How did you put it? Bear his mark, but not his laws...”

“I am still a mere agent of destruction. My fate was sealed the day the Master stung my mother. I have always been on this path to him since I was born, and I would be foolish to think I had any sort of control in my fate.”

“So you’ve always been on this _warpath_ \- to kill him?”

“There was a time when I was young that I was foolish enough to try and hide from him. To try and live my own life.” Quinlan paused and sighed. ”But the Master proved to me time and time again that he would always find me. When I finally accepted my fate I lit the very streets of Rome on fire, blind with hatred and madness... I vowed I would find him and kill him. I’ve been hunting him ever since.”

Myla sat up and turned to look back at him. She knew the conversation had taken a turn to something very serious, something very dark within himself. Something she could tell Quinlan was now perhaps regretting telling her.

So she eased his mind by not pressing any further... except for one little detail.

“Not THE  _‘Great Fire of Rome’_?” she asked. 

Quinlan was silent.

“YOU caused that?” she asked, “Didn’t it burn for like a week?” she asked

“More like six days,” Quinlan stated.

Myla laid back down abruptly, this time she was closer than before. He could feel the chill from her arm touching his.

They were quiet for another moment. 

“Living that long to hunt someone... that must be exhausting,” she said.

“It has been...” he paused for a moment. He was feeling vulnerable and surprised at the ease of their conversation. He wanted to express in just a few hours how lonely and empty it had been, but instead he went with “...difficult, and at times painful.”

Quinlan had hope that he would one day find peace, even if it was in death.

But for now, the would take this moment of peace. The city was somewhat quiet, Myla had taken his hand in hers as an effort to comfort him and he hadn’t rejected it. He embraced her cold fingers, happy to feel them gain some warmth within his palm.

“So what happened to her?” Myla asked. “Cassiopeia’s daughter?”

“Andromeda,” Quinlan said. “Oh, _that’s_ a love story I’m afraid.” 

“She falls in love?” Myla asked.

“Perseus falls in love with her actually. Andromeda’s parents chain her to a rock out at sea as an offering for the monster. Perseus, stricken by her beauty stops to help her. He offers that in exchange for killing the monster that he should be allowed to marry the girl. Her parents agree, so he petrifies the monster.”

“She is... there?” Myla asked taking away her hand and raising it up to point at the stars in the sky. 

Quinlan didn’t think he’d miss her touch, but he did the moment she took it away. He reached above them, took her hand and moved it until her finger was above the correct constellation. 

“Here,” Quinlan corrected, “above her mother, the stars show her in chains, just as Perseus found her.”

Quinlan let go of her hand this time. Wondering if she’d return her hand to his grasp. Instead, she rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows while she fiddled with her sword that had been lying beside her.

“Too bad silver doesn’t petrify strigoi.” she said. 

“You will get faster,” he told her. “Then they will seem to move slower.”

“Easy for you to say,” Myla told him. “That night in the basement, you moved like a blur to kill the Strigoi that stung me.”

“I’ll admit yes, most of whom I fight are slower than me. But I still practice at being faster than my father.”

“Could you show me again?” she asked. “That way to move your feet? I seem to trip over my heels now and again.”

Quinlan nodded and showed Myla a few more things. He imagined that if he could train the girl for an extensive amount of time, she would be comparable to several sun hunters he had trained during his lifetime. The girl clearly had some experience moving, because he had corrected her footing once, and he could see she had committed it to memory. 

When she paused to catch her breath, he complimented her. “Your footwork is quite good, I’m not quite sure you would have needed my help.” 

“My feet are good at learning, but it takes me a few tries to get it right.”

“With more practice, you would have picked it up,” he told her.

“Maybe I just like your company,” she said. 

Quinlan didn’t respond. _He wasn’t sure how._

She tapped his arm with the back of his hand. 

“I’m gonna get some sleep.,” she said. “You coming along in the morning?”

“To the tunnels,” he said. “The professor asked me to come along, yes.”

“Alright,” she said walking away. “Thanks again for your help.”

Then she disappeared into the stairwell. And he was alone once more.

The last hour had been... so simple to him. But he couldn’t help but realize how good he felt in her company. Whether it was the training or the ease of their conversation he wasn’t sure but it had been a nice change from what he was used to.

Quinlan was good at being alone. He had gotten through life just fine being alone. But Ancharia had made it difficult for him to deny his human side. And that human part of him had been locked away, and craving attention for quite some time. 

He’d almost forgotten what having a friend felt like.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is shorter, and later. I am working on what I can, but sometimes I write the middle.. then then chapters in-between. Hope you enjoy the premier tomorrow! Thanks for reading.


	7. Fear

When morning came Vasiliy ran through his plan one more time. In an effort to save time, he wanted them to split up into pairs.

“I’ll take Myla up North with me, yeah. You two go south, and here is where you place the cameras.”

Vasiliy pointed to the tunnel schematics, tapping a finger to varies places. 

The professor was eating some food while stealing glances at the Lumen at his side. Clearly dividing his attention between the two.

Myla sighed and rolled her wrists as they were sore from the night before. But she couldn't help but smile at the fact that several years ago her ankles would be sore from practicing the Coppélia. It felt good to be using her body in an artful form once again. 

From an early age, her mother had instilled in her that being sore was a good thing, it meant you were learning, becoming better. She glanced at Quinlan, appreciating that he chose to teach her anything at all. Now Myla found herself for the first time admiring him. She had never been bothered by his looks, being pale and scarred was one thing. But she still saw him as a man. She saw strong cheekbones and a square jaw. She could see his cold eyes, the veins that ran across his face, not to mention his pointed ears. 

 _No._ Even after glancing at all his strigoi-features, she still saw that part of him from the other night. Only men talk about pain like that and still glance at the stars. She could tell it had been a long time since he’d chosen to feel anything. She could see him withhold all emotion now, though she herself had been witness to it only a few hours ago. 

She found herself leaning into her palm as she looked at him. Quinlan’s attempt to push her had been the most... invigorating thing she had experienced in a long time. Her mind picked out the moments where they had briefly touched... her mind flashed to holding his hand a few hours ago.

She knew she had been alone for a while. She hadn’t been close to someone let alone intimate with anyone since... since...

 _‘Oh god, can I not even remember?’_ she asked herself. Perhaps it was best to spend some time with Vasiliy and get her head out of this damn building for a little fresh air. If she was thinking of intimacy with such an unavailable man, she was only asking for trouble. 

“ _They could all use a little fresh air.”_ she thought as she watched beads of coffee run down the professor’s beard.

* * *

 

Within the hour the professor found his way into the front seat of Vasiliy’s new car, and Quinlan took the last passenger seat at her side. She felt her pulse quicken as it had done last night and this morning.

“This is quite the car,” Myla said. "... SUV. - _Tank._ "

“Came with the job,” Vasiliy said. “Always liked having a company car.”

Myla tried to pass the car ride by thinking of anything other than those dark sewers. Sure, the job shouldn't be too hard if they were quiet, and worked quickly. Vasiliy did know the right way to track and catch just about every kind of vermin. He knew something was up. In the last few days, stragoi had breached several safe zones, only to retreat into darkness once dawn came. New York City was full of long and dark tunnels. 

Vasiliy pulled over near a subway entrance. 

“This subway line was one of the first to go down. It was riddled with strigoi from the beginning. But instead of just sleeping down there, they’ve carved it into their own little network taking them places only god knows where.”

“So tracking them tells you what direction they’re all coming from,” Myla said.

“It will help indicate the Master’s hiding place?” Quinlan asked.

“Helps me narrow it down,” Vasiliy said. “In a week I’m supposed to get a team of seals to poke around in some of those dark holes. This will be our recon.” 

The four of them stepped out of the car onto a clear street, there were still several hours left of light, they had time, they could do this. 

"Myla, you're with me, Q., you take the Professor and go down the south side. Then we'll meet back at this entrance. In and out, no more than an hour, okay?" Vasiliy said handing her a walkie.

"Yeah." Myla nodded, following Quinlan down the stairs. Once the four of them had reached the bottom, Vasiliy handed the professor five cameras. At first, the professor nearly dropped them. Their weight had surprised him. But he held them close, picking one up to examine it and remind himself how to properly attach it. 

Vasiliy watched the professor with the cameras. His distraction this morning was clearly evident now by the look on his face.

Myla glanced at Vasiliy and raised an eyebrow.

“Here, Professor,” she said as she took the cameras from him and placed them in her backpack. She clicked the walkie to channel two. “I’ll head south with Quinlan, I’ll be faster anyway.” 

Vasiliy was about to protest.

“I helped rig them anyway,” she added as she clicked on her flashlight and swung her bag to her side. “Back in an hour,” Myla said, as she began to walk down the dark tunnel.  Quinlan quickly followed behind her, Vasiliy watching them both until their forms disappeared and all he could see was the flashlight dancing across the subway walls.

“They’ll be fine.” the professor told him.

“I don’t trust that thing,” Vasiliy told him.

“He’s trustworthy enough,” Setrakian said. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“We have the same enemy, Mr. Fet. Quinlan knows that. He’s been showing Myla how to use that sword. How to kill Strigoi. I’m sure if he wanted to kill her, teaching her how to fight wasn’t in his best interest.”

“He has?” Vasiliy asked.

“Once or twice. Yes.” 

Vasiliy walked into his own darkness as the professor followed closely behind him. Vasiliy had never wanted Myla to go with Quinlan, but even Vasiliy knew he could be hard on her, and he wanted to try and gain some trust with his sister. So he said nothing when she chose to go with Quinlan. And even if he didn’t want to admit it, Quinlan could keep Myla safe. 

* * *

 

It all went well for the first little while. There were obviously carved tunnels that strigoi were using to move about the city. Myla was grateful it was daytime, and that she had Quinlan at her side. He had assured her once already that daylight meant strigoi should be sleeping. Myla had attached two cameras with no issues, but it as she pulled a strip of duct tape from her roll, Quinlan grabbed her wrist indicating for her to stop. 

So she stayed silent, listening, she heard nothing - but Quinlan...

She wanted to ask, “what-”

“Be silent,” he spoke. 

Myla didn’t dare utter another word. 

After a long pause, he let go of her wrist and indicated she could keep working. 

“It was nothing,” he assured her.

“How well _do_ you hear?” Myla asked with curiosity. 

“Very well.” was all he said.

“Like -  can you hear Vasiliy?” she asked.

“Faintly,” he told her. 

“Can you hear anything else?”

“A few things, running water, some rats, your heartbeat.”

‘My... what?” she asked as she nearly fumbled with the final attachment to the camera. 

“It’s how strigoi hunt,” he said. “Heartbeat, blood flow, we could track prey for miles.”

“Oh, I don’t suppose I thought of that.”

“It’s more suitable for finding enemies,” Quinlan said. “I assure you I’m not going to attempt to drink you.”

Quinlan heard her heart speed up for a moment before she said, “I didn’t think you would.” 

Perhaps he did scare her more than he thought. After last night he had hoped she would not see him as a sort of threat to her like most people did. But he knew the way he looked, sometimes you can’t change people’s initial reactions, especially when you’re a creature of the night with a thirst for human blood.

“There,” she said. “Done with this one.” 

She went to step down from the ledge, reaching out to him, as if she didn’t find him frightening at all. 

He took her hand, and helped her down, she stood close to him for a moment while she zipped up her bag and adjusted the straps. 

 **_*Crackle.*  
_ ** _“Myla... you there?”_

            Myla fished the walkie from her back pocket, _“Yeah Vas. Just finished with the third.”_ she radioed back. 

             _“We found something,”_ Vasiliy told her.

Myla could tell Quinlan had tensed.

            _“What is it?”_

            _“It’s a nest we-” -the radio cut out- “-could be better if we don’t wait.”_

_“What, what?” she asked._

_“The professor thinks we should-” the radio's signal cut out again. “I’ve got the grenades with me now.”_

“I think he wants to exterminate the nest they found,” Quinlan stated.

_“Vas - maybe wait yeah? on the explosion?”_

_“We've gone far enough North that we're below the safe zone,” Vasiliy said. “I’m afraid if we don’t-” *crackling. “-attack tonight.”_

_“_ They could be planning an attack. It is possible.” Quinlan said. 

Myla looked at Quinlan and gazed into the darkness.

              _“If you think you can do it safely,”_ Myla said into the walkie. _“We can head back.”_

              _“We’ll meet you at the entrance,” Vasiliy said._

The radio went silent. Myla’s pulse quickened. 

“Come,” Quinlan said. “Let’s head back.”

Myla followed closely behind him as they hurried back. Both of them heard Vasiliy discharge the grenade, to their surprise, it had been well before they had reached the subway entrance. Myla grasped at Quinlan’s arm, frightened at the unexpected boom.

“Vasiliy!” Myla said.

               She pulled out the walkie and began running. _“What the hell was that?”_

               _“A few of them woke up, came after us - we tossed it a little early,”_ Vasiliy said.

 

“I can hear others. How many did he kill?” Quinlan asked.

 

 _“How many were there?”_ Myla asked.

              _”Maybe close to fifty,”_ Vasiliy said. “ _-wait.”_

 

Myla slowed down to a walk, she kept the line clear, listening. 

              _“Did you hear that?”_ Vasiliy asked.

“What’s he talking about?” Myla asked.

“The tunnels...” Quinlan said. “...they’re collapsing. We must go, now. Hurry!”

Myla resumed running again.

“Shit, This was a bad idea!” she said.

The two men fell silent as they heard a distinct crack of stone. They watch a fracture line spread down the tunnel. A small chip of rock fell to the subway floor. Then Quinlan heard the strigoi tunnel network... collapsing. Myla’s flashlight slipped from her grip as she ran, she only held the walkie now.

_“Where are you?!” she heard Vasiliy ask._

 

She just kept running, eventually, she came to find that the black tunnel began to gain light. The subway entrance was just around the bend. When they made the curve she could just make out the tall figure of Vasiliy amongst the dim safety lights on the platform.

It was sudden, too fast for anyone to see coming, except for Quinlan. Myla looked up, water rushed on top of her, drenching her from a nearby waterline. Fet was at the other end of the tunnel, his only expression was wide-eyed, unable to speak any words before the rubble began to fall in between them. 

She felt Quinlan grab her. She felt him pull her in against him. She remembered he felt warm after being soaked with cold water. But she remembered that feeling of warmth leaving her, and being replaced by dust and rubble.  

 

* * *

 

Vasiliy was trying to move rocks and boulders. But it was no use, if he wanted to get to her, the only thing that was going to help would be more explosives. And as the professor kept reminding him... the fractures along the wall were getting bigger, and it wouldn’t be long before the rest of the subway tunnel was under rubble or water. 

“Mr. Fet we must be going. Unless you wish to drown, but I do not.”

“But she’s- she’s in here!” Vasiliy said.

“You saw Quinlan grab her and move her out of the way,” Setrakian said. 

“We will wait for them above ground, they will likely get out through the next subway entrance. Or a sewer line. But there is no use in risking our lives here any longer!” 

Vasiliy looked defeated but followed the professor up the stairs. 

“I didn’t think it would collapse,” Vasiliy told him.

“Nor did I. But we did manage to stop them from... whatever it was the Master was planning. At least there is that.”

Vasiliy felt even more disheartened when he saw the sun had fallen to the West, indicating they were well into the evening. Vasiliy and the professor got into the car and waited. 

They sat in silence for the rest of the evening, waiting for some sign of the pair to rise from the depths below. But it never came. 

“Mr. Fet, I know you don’t want to, but we must return to the Olympian before dark.”

“I know,” he said.

“I’m sure they will make it back in the morning,” Setrakian assured him. “If they do not, we will come back and look for them.”

“Okay, Professor,” Vasiliy said, defeated. 

With the last half hour of sunlight left, Vasiliy headed back to the Olympian. 

 

* * *

 

Myla attempted to move when the rumble had stopped, She could see only darkness. She felt her chest compressed against a piece of concrete, rebar was wrapped around her leg, _"it's difficult to breathe..."_

Myla tried to cough, but her throat didn't comply, instead, she found silence in the back of her throat. She wanted to call out for Vasiliy. She wanted to cry. There were a lot of things she wanted in that moment, but to be buried alive wasn't one of them.

She began to push, pull, anything she could do - she felt her leg slip and begin to fall around her if she could just twist...

There, she was free, but now she could feel warm blood trickling down her leg.

The only comforting feeling was the cool air that had found it's way to her face. She could hear something around her, but she still couldn't see anything.

It wasn't until she felt a rush of cool air. Her hair brushed across her shoulders, the stone from her chest was gone, and she took in a breath.

"Found you." she heard Quinlan's voice say. 

"Why... why is it so dark, why can't I see you?" she asked, terrified. 

She felt him pull another flashlight from her pack and turn it on. A dim yellow light illuminated the rubble around them. She remembered why she had favored the other flashlight, this one’s batteries were on their last leg. 

She looked up at Quinlan. His black jacket was covered with dust, he had a small cut above his eyebrow. It had been the first time she’d seen his blood.

"We’re in the strigoi tunnels. There are no lights here.”

"Is everyone else..." 

"They were near the exit. The rubble fell on our side, I’m sure they’re fine. But we must get you moving - Strigoi will be headed this way. And we’re in their domain now."

Quinlan went to lift her from the rubble, Myla did her best to keep from screaming. If strigoi were coming, she wasn't going to lead them here any faster. Myla gripped onto Quinlan's coat, her nails dug into flesh. 

"My- my leg..." she said almost in a whisper. 

"I am aware. The scent of your blood was what allowed me to find you," he said in a stern voice. ”If we’re going to get anywhere soon, I must stop this bleeding.”

Quinlan set her nearby on a large piece of concrete free from the initial pile of rubble. 

She held the flashlight towards her leg as she felt Quinlan lay his hands across her leg. His hand made its way up her thigh, pausing for a moment. 

She felt her chest 'thud' once, then twice. _Was he... okay? Was he going to help her, or...?_

Quinlan could hear her pulse, he understood her apprehension. The thought of drinking her had crossed his mind, as it had been a few days since he’d fed. But she was a kind girl, he wanted to save her... _show her a kindness._

"This will hurt. I need you to keep quiet."

Myla nodded. Next, Myla felt two things.

Once again, she was able to feel Quinlan's strength. Of course, he was strong, but to feel it applied to her body was a unique experience. His hands were gentle, one pressed firmly against her wound, as the other used her a torn piece of her shirt to wrap the small gash. Now that she could see, she knew it was small, just proficiently bleeding all over her jeans and his hands.

The second thing was the pain. He'd applied enough pressure to stop the bleeding while he applied the temporary bandage. But she was able to remain quiet.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Quinlan still between her legs, Myla realized in her fit of pain she had grabbed his arm and dug her nails into him. She quickly let go, and Quinlan removed himself from the concrete slab. He offered his hand, and Myla stood. 

"How'd you know how to do that?" she asked trying to stand, she was shaky at first, but able to get upright. She took a few steps, testing her body’s injuries. 

"I've seen every injury there is to see. And even learned how to fix a few of them." Quinlan said. 

Myla nodded. "Of course you have." 

"We should get moving," he told her. 

Myla looked around seeing nothing but rubble. “Where... exactly?” 

Then her flashlight began to dim, it became smaller, smaller, until it was gone. 

She grabbed it, shaking it - returning the dim light once more. 

Myla sucked in air, holding her breath as her heart began to race.

"I know you’re scared,” he told her. “But I’m sure of a way out, it just may take some time. I want you to stay close to me, and keep your sword ready. With blood on your clothes, Strigoi will come for us if they can get to us." Quinlan said, closer than he was before. Myla reached outwards, her hands grasped the opening of his coat and she found herself pressed against him. It had been an accident at first, but when he didn't immediately pull away, Myla let herself stay there. She threaded her hands through the opening of his coat, realizing she was shaking, she had tears in her eyes once more.

“Do you trust me?” he asked.

Myla said nothing, she only nodded her head slowly. 

“I’m going to leave you, for less than a moment, I promise.” 

Myla could hear what he heard now. Movement, in the walls... throughout the tunnel. 

“Quinlan - please don’t” she whispered as she let go of his coat. But he was already gone. A small orange light was all that illuminated her and the dirty walls of the tunnels. She felt her eyes well with tears. ‘Trust him.” she reminded herself. 

_Could she?_

_Should she?_

Myla picked up her backpack. The shoulder strap had broken, so she tied it together and slipped it around her back. She was still soaked from the water, keeping her from retaining any warmth. 

When Quinlan returned, he had white blood on him, and worms this time. 

“The tunnel is clear, we can go.” 

She gripped her sword tightly, as she followed Quinlan through a very small opening in the rubble. It opened up into a tunnel that was still stable, at least for the time being. Myla didn’t want to stick around to find out. 

She stepped over the two dead strigoi, keeping close to Quinlan. Now would surely be the time to listen, they were in enemy territory, her blood marking them for the kill. 

She unsheathed her sword to be ready. 

Then her flashlight gave out.

“Fuck,” she whispered.

She couldn’t see shit.

Vasiliy had to have her go to the damn _dark_ tunnels.

Quinlan grasped her small hand. He couldn't see well, but his senses were still useful in the dark, and he could certainly see more than her. 

She was pawing at him like a newborn puppy looking for its mother. But it was her fear that had him puzzled. Being a hunter, he’d always been keen to a prey’s fear. And hers had dissipated the closer she stood to him it was gone almost entirely when he had wrapped his arms around her. Eventually, her heart slowed, her breathing regulated. 

This perplexed him greatly.

He let her stay there, Quinlan told himself it was better this way. She would be easier to lead out - they could be quieter... avoid detection if she was calm.

But he knew the truth. Being... touched like this felt warm to him, it had been an embrace he had missed. 

He had to pull away from her in an effort to refocus himself. The smell of her blood was making him hungry, and easier to distract. 

“Come,” he said. She took his hand, and he lead her through the tunnels he could hear them waking, stirring, the explosion had woken many, killed many, so they must be getting further from the explosion if some were still dormant. 

He was still following the scent of fresh air, slightly grateful the water had washed away Myla’s soap, or he wouldn’t be sure there was a way out at all. 

“Myla, nightfall will be soon. And since you can't see, if I call out a command to you, I want you to execute it. Do you understand?” 

“Yes,” she said more confidently than he had expected. 

He urged her forward more quickly. Trying to close the gap before...

...They were already here.

“Myla keep your back to mine,” he said spinning her around him, leaving her to face the darkness.

She heard strigoi, they were coming, many of them. She could feel Quinlan moving, his sword slicing through the air, his speed was faster than she could have ever imagined.

“Myla, one, in front of you. Left then swing,” he commanded.

She did as she was told, and as they had practiced. A left step, and a swing - she felt her sword hit its target. She felt it’s stinger fall hitting her boot. Quinlan came to her side, piercing the creatures face, it gave a shriek of defeat. 

“Not bad for being blind,” he said.

“Well I’ve been practicing,” she said with earnest. “I like to think I would’ve had its head.”

“You were close,” he said.

She almost thought she’d heard a smile.

“How much farther?” she asked. 

“Maybe a mile,” he told her.

“Another mile... of this?” she asked afraid.

“I’m not concerned,” he told her. “They are easy to kill. And you’re easy to protect when you don’t have to worry about the worm.”

Myla suddenly realized Quinlan could see just fine. He was leading _her_ out - only her. He could have walked out of this situation easily and have been halfway back to the Olympian by now if she wasn’t here.

He’d come back for her. He was protecting her.

She took his hand once more, as they walked through the stone tunnels. Her adrenaline was keeping her warm, as well as her palm in his.

“On your right.” he would call. Myla would listen, step, and swing her sword. She was getting better at listening for her enemy.

There was an instance she was separated from Quinlan, she could hear several of them running for the scent of her blood. But Quinlan was keeping them at bay. Two came up from behind her. She heard the first, decapitating it, but leaving herself vulnerable to attack from the other - it’s stinger sunk into her forearm. Luckily, her sword arm was still free. She severed the stinger from her arm and went for its head next. Once she heard the creature collapse, she ripped the head of the stinger from her arm. 

She felt Quinlan behind her pull her out of the way. His shoulder thrust into the wall nearest them, she could hear rocks crumbling, giving way, then there came a small opening that gave the faintest light.

They had entered into the water line, likely the one that had burst on top of them earlier. 

Myla climbed through, she could hear the patter of rain above her, The moon’s light fell through a city grate, and it’s light illuminated the droplets of rain into the water below them. Her eyes adjusted to the light just in time to see Quinlan climb through the opening.

He came straight towards her, picking her up into his arms.

“Hold onto me,” he said.

Myla wrapped her arms around his neck as he began to run forward. She instantly felt a gravity playing tricks on her as he gained in speed. 

In seconds they were at a ladder, Quinlan set her down and she almost fell as her gravity recentered. 

“Mm..” 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes. A bit disoriented,” she said. “Why didn’t we run like that earlier?”

“The strigoi tunnels were too small, one wrong move and you could’ve hit your head.”

“Good point. Avoid the concussion,” she said.

Quinlan made his way up the ladder, “There are more coming, I encourage you to follow me.”

Myla hopped onto the ladder, realized her leg did hurt. But she found her way forward, perplexed she was still alive at all. She owed that all to him.

Quinlan pushed the grate open, breaking the latch entirely.   

She reached upwards for the warm hand that lifted her from the water main. They were miles away from home, but she was alive damn it. After being separated from Vasiliy buried alive, and in nothing but black tunnels, she felt true fear. 

Now, with rain falling on her face, she smiled and gratefully turned to hug the man that had kept her safe.  

The embrace came naturally to her, but she felt him stiffen as it was _very_ unnatural to him. 

 "Your gratitude is not necessary," he spoke.

 "I know, I know," she whispered. But she kept clinging to him anyway. _"But you saved my life,"_ she whispered.

 "If I may, it's dark out, and there are several hours until sunrise. Perhaps we ought to quietly retreat into a nearby building and wait till sunrise."

"Yes. Of course." Myla said as she tilted her head back, in this moonlight she realized how much she found this man captivating. She pulled away from him has a few wet droplets began to soak into her still damp hair, this time washing away the dust and rubble. "I'm just happy to be alive," she said looking back at him and smiling.

"That's perhaps the most human thing I've ever heard," he said. Myla swore there was a hint of a chuckle in his voice.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait you guys, this is nice and long for all those new kudos I got, and anyways, just thanks for reading in general - I appreciate you all.


	8. Need Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where things get a bit hairy. Read at your own crazy disposition.

-PART I-

Quinlan reached out towards Myla just as he had done in the tunnels. Taking her hand as they made their way across the street. He embraced the simple touch as if this would be the only human contact he would have for another few hundred years. He didn't want to let that go quite yet.  
   
A nearby abandoned apartment building had a large check mark on the door to indicate the building had been cleared. Quinlan couldn’t detect anything in it, at least not at the moment. Now that the sky had unleashed a downpour, he was grateful to get them both somewhere to dry out and wait until morning. The silly girl had only become happier the more the rain-soaked into her coat, but Quinlan had to remind himself that he rarely understood such human emotion.   
   
"Top floor," he whispered. "Better look out."   
   
Myla nodded and begun her ascent on the carpeted stairs. This building was old, red brick, crumbling grout, one of those buildings that Vasiliy had taught her to love. Her fingers fit into the grooves as she meandered to the highest floor. Then she waited for Quinlan to point out the empty apartment.   
   
"Smells of dust," he said as he pointed.  
   
Myla nodded and stood on the opposite side as he quickly picked the lock. Myla followed in after him both of them checking dark corners of the rooms until satisfied that the apartment was in fact, untouched. Quinlan gave her the final nod, and she set down her pack before walking over the other old radiator next to the bed. Before rotating the dial and hearing the familiar 'pops' the machine made.   
   
The apartment was small, illuminated only by the moonlight, and a small security light above the door. It had a small kitchen and bathroom, but the bedroom shared the living area. There was a couch, littered with books, and shelves stacked with encyclopedias, fantasy novels, and collectible dictionaries. As she waited for the radiator to get going Myla slipped off her coat hanging it near the radiator to dry. Then she went to the kitchen and picked through the various cupboards.   
   
"Jackpot," she whispered.  
   
The cupboards were filled with non-perishables. She helped herself to an easy pop-top jar of pears, which she ate quickly. There had been a pit in the bottom of her stomach ever since her flashlight had burned out and the food seemed to return her back to some state of normalcy.

But then again, normal wasn’t hiding out in an abandoned building in Brooklyn with a half-human half-vampire.

Still not satiated, she popped open a jar of olives and picked at them while she made a mental note of a box of unopened cookies. She stumbled back into the living area to find Quinlan towering over the window, watching the street below them.   
   
"Do you ever eat food?" she asked.  
   
"No, my body does not find human food of any use."

Myla raised her eyebrow. "So have you tried food before?" she asked feeling inquisitive as she stood next to the radiator finally feeling the heat, Quinlan looked at her, her questions were obviously something he didn't want to entertain. 

She removed the makeshift bandage Quinlan had tied around her leg, it was unfortunately still bleeding.  
   
Myla pointed at the heater and asked, "do you mind if I-?" Myla pulled a dry shirt from a nearby dresser, clearly a man’s extra large.  
   
Quinlan shook his head and went back to looking at the ground below.   
   
"I think we managed to evade detection. The Strigoi from the sewers will go looking for us but our scent should have been washed away by the rain, we will need to remain quiet until morning."  
   
"Mmhmm." she said muffled.  
   
"I'm sure the professor and Fet are back at the Olympian." Quinlan's ears heard the distinct sound of a zipper and turned around to find Myla half bent over, wrestling her wet jeans off of each foot. Quinlan felt confused for the first time in a few hundred years when he couldn't look away from the small display of human struggle. He now understood what she meant when she had gestured to the radiator, she hadn't been asking him if he minded the heat, _but if she could dry her clothes._

That subtle indication had been lost on him.  
   
He felt silly. He'd spent a thousand years mastering his craving for human blood, and now here he was completely subdued by the flesh of a woman. He admired the wet sheen that covered her entire body and those small bits of nude lace that covered the remainder. He found himself wishing for a moment that she would remove them, but he quickly pushed the thought from his head and prayed she would keep them on.   
   
She turned around and met his gaze. She jumped, quickly grabbing the large shirt to cover herself. He quickly looked away, first at the window, then at the bed frame, then to the floor.  
   
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.  
   
Myla's face quickly became red. “I asked if I could- _and you turned away,_ what do you think you’re doing?” she asked as she bunched up the large garment and threw it over her shoulders, "I didn't think you would... I'm sorry, I'm not sure what I thought..."  
   
Quinlan guessed at what she meant.   
   
"You're a very attractive woman Myla." 

She blushed. “I didn't think..."  
   
"...think what?" Quinlan asked.  
   
"well, that you'd _stare,"_ she said unable to meet his gaze as she grabbed her backpack.  
   
"My apologies, It's been some time since I've been in the company of a woman such as yourself...” he paused, finding himself looking her up and down one last time. “... I can give you your privacy."  
   
Myla watched him turn his gaze to the street below, this time turning his back to her. And she couldn't help but feel awkward. Even though she had been flattered by the look he’d given her. She quickly became more embarrassed now that she could feel the heat of embarrassment emanating from her face. She quietly retreated back to the kitchen, hoping they could both shake off the incident and pretend like it hadn’t happened.

Who was she kidding though? He saw her that night she’d been stung... she saw her the next morning after her shower. Come to think of it she’d left little to the imagination at this point, who could blame him for... well looking. She hadn't thought much of Quinlan being attracted to her... she had always labeled him as extremely unavailable, but that look she saw just now... she knew that look.

Focusing on the more important things, she examined her arm. The stinger had hurt more this time, probably because it had been able to latch on tighter than before.

She had to light a candle from her backpack to allow enough light so she could even see the wound.

This time it was bigger than the one on her chest, probably from yanking it out so quickly. She loosely wrapped gauze around her arm, hoping the few worms that were left could wiggle out freely. She struggled to get the wrap just right, but she had to settle for the best she could do with one hand.

She pulled herself onto the counter to get a better look at her leg. Moving the candle to a better position.

“Does it hurt?” Quinlan called out from the other room.

“On a scale of 1 to 10, about a 2,” she replied.

“Let me have a look at it,” he said.  
   
Myla bit her bottom lip, before giving a very unsure, “sure.”

She was almost startled at how fast he’d arrived at her side.

-POV: Quinlan-

Quinlan had been hungry that day. Ever since Myla had cut her leg, he’d been cursing himself for not eating the previous night. He’d been able to ignore the thirst while fighting in the tunnels, but now out of the rain... all he could do to help the scent of blood in the room was to try and bandage the damn wound.

The rain had removed most of the dried blood, but some could be found in patches around her knee, and even in the grooves of his knuckles. Of course, she had that sweet smell of someone with B positive blood - he had to remind himself that if the worms didn’t like her, he probably wouldn’t either.

He glanced at the first aid kit atop the table. A bandage. That wasn't going to help him.  _Fuck._

“You’re bleeding,” Myla told him. A small gash filled with white ran across his the top of his head, he knew that.

He didn’t even look surprised. “I’ll heal,” he told her.

The idea of closing the wound with his own blood became more appealing knowing he wouldn’t have to smell her blood anymore. It might make the rest of the night easier to deal with, after all, she had already been exposed to the white when she helped the professor, but giving it to a human was no easy decision. But he was hungry... and she smells so sweet - it was probably for the best.

He reached up towards his head touching the small wound. His fingers came back coated with a thin layer of his blood.

“This will sting.” he told her.

She didn't have a chance to ask any questions before he touched his fingertips to her wound, applying his white like a sort of ointment.

_It felt like fire._

She grit her teeth and grunted.

She could faintly feel him wrap the gauze around her leg, tying a neat knot.

“Aren’t you worried about infecting-” she huffed.

“I do not carry the worm,” Quinlan stated flatly. “This is merely an imitation of what you gave the professor the other night. The bleeding will stop. And it will heal quicker.”

Myla realized she was panting, waiting for the pain to subside.

“It’ll go away momentarily,” he said.

The pain was so distracting, she almost didn’t notice his lingering touch on her knee.

He noticed the bandage on her arm.

“When did you get stung?” he asked. Having been preoccupied with seven strigoi at the time she was attacked, Quinlan hadn’t noticed.

“When they came down on us.” she managed to say. “It was quick.”

He examined the wrap she’d done on her arm, “This won’t do.” he told her.

“Oh no, not again...” she began.

“No, not for this. I don’t want to close the wound with worms still inside. Believe me, I’ve bandaged many injuries one-handed, and it’s always better to it with two.”

Myla was silent when he untied her bandage and began to re-wrap it.

“You pulled it too hard,” he said quietly.

“It was dark,” Myla said.

“But you fought well. For someone who couldn’t see,” he told her.

“Thanks,” Myla said, finally a smile returning to her face.

“Sorry for making you uncomfortable earlier. I - misread what you were trying to convey. Human conversation subtleties are often lost on me.”

“It’s okay,” Myla said. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me... that way before.”

Quinlan had thought back to that morning when she was freshly showered. Her wet hair was the same, and he could still smell the faintest hint of her soap underneath all the rain, dust...  _and blood._

He had already forced his stinger down twice in the other room. Perhaps helping her was a bad idea. He couldn’t close the wound on her arm, now he was in close proximity to her... he could easily just let it happen. Take a chance on her tainted blood, maybe it would satiate him, maybe it would make him ill.

Myla must have noticed his gaze of hunger, he heard her heartbeat quicken. 

She had really only been responding to his warm hand on her knee, she was suddenly asking herself how fast she would warm up if she was pressed against him.

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he told her, his hands leaving her arm. He looked down at the floor and forced his stinger down a third time.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s just -” Quinlan shut his eyes and turned away his head. Stop thinking about the blood. “You’re B positive.”

“Yeah, so’s Vasiliy,” Myla said. “Is that... a good thing? Or...”

“It just tastes different,” he said. “Smells different.” Quinlan quickly tried to focus on the smell of olive oil in the kitchen. The pears. _Her soap._

“I’ll go keep watch. The rain has stopped,” he told her.

Quinlan abruptly left the room. Myla’s heart was still beating rapidly.

“Are you okay?” she called out.

There was no answer.

She was driving him mad. The further he pushed away from the hunger, the more prominent his human desires became. He’d succumbed to living his half-life long ago, regularly feeding on humans and finding comfort in the in knowing what he was. Just a creature of the night. It didn’t make sense to him. It seemed no matter how black and white the pieces of him were, all he could do was look at her and want her. Body or blood, one or the other.

He could still hear her heart fluttering as she called out to him.

She entered the room tentatively. Still trying to give him space.

“Myla, I know I frighten you, but I ask that you stay-”

‘Frighten me?” she interrupted. “What gave you that idea?”

“Your heart. Even now, it tells me your afraid.”

She touched her chest, sure, she was a little nervous, but he’d just had his hands on her, healed her, _been so close..._

He watched her face blush. That confused him. _She couldn’t possibly be..._

“I’m sorry if I gave you that idea, Quinlan,” she said as she walked over to him. “You just saved my life. Without you, there’s no question of whether or not I would have died in there. I’m... grateful for what you did. I... don't know why you'd think I'd be afraid of you.”

“Your pulse gives you away,” he told her.

She took a step closer this time, he stepped back.

“You must just have that effect on me,” she admitted shyly.

Myla had an idea. _A stupid fucking idea._

She closed the gap between them in the room. Walking up to him with a confident look on her face. He could hear her heart thud in her chest, but she was right, her eyes did not tell him she was afraid. 

What she did next made him think she was in fact very, _very brave._

Myla placed her hands on his chest, when he didn't move away this time, she gently pushed back to let his jacket slack off his arms, as his eyes came to hers, she could see confusion obviously written all over his face, _but she knew..._ she knew how he had responded to her touch before in the tunnels, when his fingers lingered on her back... her knee.

He was starved for this, and so was she. She had seen the look enough times to be able to bet on it.  
   
"Myla..." his voice protested, but his eyes begged for more, they almost looked sad, perhaps exhibiting pain.

She pushed the jacket free from his shoulders, and it fell to the floor from its own weight. A simple thud and silence surrounded them.   
   
Her hands came down from his shoulders, over his pectoral muscles, and around his waist, daring him to come closer to her.  
   
And he did, but not without words, "Myla, as I said you are..." he'd begun to melt into her hands, "...stunning. I'm sure this isn't-"  
   
Myla lifted the brown shirt over her head, it was quickly tossed aside as she arched her back against him.   
   
"How about we live a little tonight, and we go back to work tomorrow?" Myla whispered as she looked into his eyes.   
   
"Myla, I am _no human,_ " he whispered back. He didn't want to respond to her proposition... not when he knew what the answer would bring.

“You’re just human enough," she said. "Let me see you, let me hold you."

 

 _‘Let me hold you.’_  
   
_‘Habeo vos._ ' he had heard those sweet words in Tasa’s voice over a thousand years ago.

 

Quinlan knew those words were enough to melt him. He wanted to be held, needed, wanted for as long as he could remember. He had never had a woman strip herself and beg him to come closer before, not since Tasa. At least no one he hadn't paid, but even then there was always a thick cloak of disdain. 

But here and now? She was one of the most beautiful girls he'd ever seen, wet from rain, half-naked and begging him to just live a little, with her, _just for one night._  
   
It almost broke him to relent to her wishes. It took all he had not to lose control, she was making him ache something he'd been ignoring for centuries, she'd... made him feel that part of himself he’d locked away all these years. Denying himself for as long as he did... he wasn't sure he could go back to his old self so easily.   
   
Her hands slid around his neck in a gentle way that made his stinger rattle. She pulled him towards her face and delicately placed a kiss on his lips, staying for as long as he'd let her. He soon pulled away, almost bewildered at how soft she felt against him.

The distance between their lips allowed him to speak one last protest, “Myla I do not recommend we continue this.” he told her in a whisper. He added more distance between them when he took a seat at the edge of the bed, however, he managed to stay tethered to her hand. 

Was she holding his hand, _or had he not been able to let go?_

He felt her hands come up to his face, and he found himself leaning into her palm. Her touch was warm and soft,

“Gods,” he muttered as she continued to run her fingers over his face and down the back of his neck. She was immediately pulled into his arms and held again, and she laughed softly, as she shifted and she settled into his lap. Then her hands slid around his head, down his neck, lingering on his strigoi markings. 

“This okay?” she asked.

“Better than okay.” he breathed. His voice was almost obscured by a rattle in his chest. She could feel the folds of his neck moving as if his stinger was trying to break free. But Quinlan knew the rattle was a positive response, one of pleasure, one that told him he was very much succumbing to her proposition.

He did enjoy the distraction it brought from his hunger. As he felt her fingers dance over his skin, it became easier and easier to forget.

Quinlan removed the shirt he usually wore, a lightweight material that kept him cool - and she removed her bra. His pale skin came in contact with her chest, she felt almost like ice pressed against him, and he realized the rain had really sunk deep into her flesh. She was chilled, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to change that.

He could tell she was waiting this time, her face waiting, adjacent to his, _waiting for him to kiss her._

So he did, tentatively at first... still afraid of accepting this offer.

And then he kissed her a second time.

She came back for a third.

Then he pulled away again, suddenly every part of him told him he didn't deserve this. She tasted sweet and floral, like olive oil and pears. Her skin was soft and unscarred. Pink and supple.  _How could dare take something so pure?_  
   
But she followed him, her lips not caring that he had pulled away again.

She could feel his palms twitch against the outside of her thighs, that hesitation...

He pulled away for the last time, looking deep into her eyes, "are you sure this is what you want?" he asked one last time.  
   
'It's what we need." she whispered in his ear.

As long as he had lived, that look in Myla's eye's had never been meant for him and only him. He figured it wasn't in his best interest to waste it. Even Tasa had never quite looked at him in this way... pure unequivocal lust.

She could feel the short puffs of breath against her shoulder as he enjoyed her gentle caress.

Quinlan’s hands still hovered at her hips, squeezing softly, relenting... finally accepting their fate.

“Myla, may I…”

She felt his grip tighten.

“Don’t ask,” she said back. _“I trust you,” she whispered._

 


	9. Need Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little more explicit. So, you're warned.

Myla could feel his warmth taking away the chill of the rain. His strength was evident when he'd lifted her and set her on her back, his hands were still pressed firmly against her outer thighs, moving her like she weighed nothing. In this position she knew she was at his mercy, _'no.'_ she reminded herself that _'in any position'_ she was at his mercy. 

He came down to her lips, now committed to the act they about to give themselves to. Their need for intimacy was evident in the next few moments of kissing alone. They’d both nearly lost themselves amongst lips, tongues, and teeth. She felt warm beneath him now, in fact, this act alone had begun to make her sweat.

Her hands began slid down his midsection and fiddled with his belt buckle until it was unclasped.

She wasn’t going to get away with this that easy.

His kiss trailed down her neck until she could feel the smallest scratch from his stinger. Something he'd been unable to force down now that he was aroused. She moaned at how gentle the touch was. _How in control he was._ Her fingers trailed to the back of his head, urging him further downward. His hands trailed back to her hips, hooking his fingers underneath her lacy garment, while her hand had delicately begun to stroke the underside of his stinger.

The sensitive flesh of his stinger had begun to sing to him before he managed to force it back down once again. But she hadn’t been afraid to touch it, _she had... embraced it._  
   
In response to her ministrations to one of his most... _sensitive organs_ , he tore through the lacy fabric wrapped around her lower half like it was paper.

He enjoyed the shocked look on her face. If she wanted him. She was going to have him.

“Take off your-” Myla stopped when she was mid-sentence, as soon as she felt him place a kiss just at the top of her mound. Quinlan rested between her thighs. He looked up at her, and she looked into his cold stare. His gaze hadn’t changed, he looked... determined. When his head dipped lower her eyes were already rolling into the back of her head. His tongue was tasting her... with one of his hands at her breast while his other hand was gently proving her wet opening.

 _“Ohh!”_ was her attempt at words, but it came out more like a gasp for air.

She was completely at his mercy, she hadn’t succumbed to pleasure like this in quite some time, at least not with someone else. And she didn’t think she could take this much longer. He was fast and precise but still managed to tease her all at the same time. One of her fists curled into the sheets, while the other held his shoulder against her. She wondered if her nails digging into his flesh even bothered him.

She let out a moan when she began to feel that coil wind itself tighter in her belly. But her noises turned to a begging whimper when she realized his tongue had left her. But she still felt his fingers inside... working her in that special place. She could hear how wet she’d become each time his moved against her. She looked down once more to find his stinger now settled against her thigh.

“You-” she began breathlessly, she had to regain some composure to even speak coherently. “You can... _try if you’d like.”_

Quinlan looked up at her to gaze at the view of her arching her back and thrusting her hips towards his face.

His hunger had yet to be satiated, and he could still smell blood from the bandage on her leg. Losing himself in this moment had allowed his stinger to release itself once more, and since the warmth of her body was inviting, he let it rest against her leg while he kept pleasing her.

He hadn’t expected her to... _offer._

 

_But the silver._

_What harm could it really do?_

_Based on the professor’s assumptions it was entirely plausible that the silver was in her organs, not her blood._

_Why am I even contemplating this?_

_Because you’re hungry Quinlan._

_The smallest... of tastes, that could do._

 

Quinlan allowed his stinger to just barely break the surface of her flesh. Near her femoral artery, where the blood flow was strong - with great control he drank her in, slowly at first, and when he detected no silver, he pulled again, all while still working his two fingers inside of her.

He felt her respond to every touch, every pull, he felt her walls tighten against his fingers. She was enjoying _this._

_Or rather... had._

He released his stinger and pulled away from her after her first climax. He hadn’t taken much blood, very little in fact. But she was breathless beneath him, her skin red and flushed. She was smiling up at him.

He came down stretching his body out across her, placing a kiss on her breast, he could feel the flutter of her heartbeat against his lips. His acute senses could see the beads of sweat across her chest.

This was one of the only reasons he’d ever come to enjoy this sort of intimacy. His human side craved to see a woman _just like this._    
   
Though now he could feel a warmth threading throughout him, he felt a tingling in on his lips... he felt different.

Her blood made him feel _... intoxicated._

He looked into her eyes, they were half-lidded but he could still see that beautiful blue color. Something about the way she looked at him made him smirk. He came back to kiss her. And in his hazy state, he let her take the reigns, suddenly feeling like he wanted to watch her like she had done to him, _perhaps this was the blood talking._

Now that she sat on him, pants undone, both of them working to push the last remaining fabric away before she slid onto his arousal while she was still pulsating from her first orgasm.

Myla hadn’t quite known what to expect with his anatomy. The Lumen described in detail the body of a Strigoi, and Myla had wondered if Quinlan had been the same. Except... there was the way he’d looked at her once or twice now that told Myla her bold plan maybe wasn’t that stupid after all.

She slowly adjusted to his size, he was uncut and larger than any man she'd ever been with, but he seemed to take more time than her to adjust. She didn’t know how often he did this, or if he even liked it. But the groan that came from his lips told her to keep going. His eyes were glued to her pale skin illuminated in the moonlight, her breasts were firm, nipples pert - the image was beautiful. He didn't know why he didn’t take more women this way before, the movements were slow, but the image she gave was a vision.

He let her rock against him, and Myla noticed he still looked at her as though she were prey.

To lessen his gaze, he came up to kiss her, only to find that she had kicked into overdrive. Her kiss was harder than before, demanding now. She opened his mouth in an effort to lick herself from his lips. The act only aroused him further. He took one of her breasts in his hand, and the other cupped her ass pulling her against him, then he began to thrust up into her. The first thrust shocked her, she cried out. This sensation had been lost to him for quite some time now, and even he couldn’t understand why her walls felt like they were going to break him.

He took control despite her still being atop him, with his palm pressing against her back to keep her anchored against him he thrust to meet her. The sound of their coupling, only somewhat audible before, grew in volume.

Then Myla made the most fragile noise when she came for the second time. Though they may not have been completely silent, she did her best to mute her vocals, even though her recent orgasm was pink upon her face, and now he could feel her pulse throughout his own body. This reminded him of what was to come.

He delicately took hold of her hips and flipped her back beneath him, all while staying inside her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him again before he pulled his hips back and snapped them against her.

“Stop me if I hurt you...” he growled.

She nodded, and he continued. His pace was... _inhuman._  Myla realized now that her choice of pace must have been excruciatingly slow for him. She wasn’t even sure how she was going to withstand this amount of friction, and even though her orgasms had been so recent she already felt a third forming within her body.

And he fucked her like it was the last time he would fuck anyone.

Because deep down, he knew it could be.

Quinlan felt the next moment happen slowly, he wanted to enjoy the way she came when he was buried inside her, he wanted to enjoy the feeling of her nails digging into his back... he even liked hearing her call out his name, though it wasn't exactly following their rule of being quiet. He thrust slowly, enjoying every grip her muscles made against him, and when he felt like she could handle more, he picked up the pace again. It took him only another moment to reach his peak and happily spill himself inside her, knowing he carried no threat of impregnating her. Then they stayed like that for a moment, bodies glued to one another, both breathless and satisfied.

Quinlan reveled in the time it took for Myla to regain her breath. She was still panting beside him now, arm stretched over his chest. Now he could see that tattoo on her shoulder, a small dove... holding an olive branch. His thumb in their embrace ran over it, expecting to feel some sort of scar, but there was none.

“That night... didn’t go quite as I expected.” Myla said breathlessly.

“I admit, I may have lost control,” Quinlan said.

Myla sat up on her elbows, looking at him concerned. “But do you- regret?” she started to ask.

“No," he said. "I very much appreciated the attention. It’s been some time since - I... don’t get many chances to be intimate.”

“A long life hunting the Master,” she stated.

“A very long life.” he agreed.

“Where do you call home?” she asked finally settling and returning to her spot on his chest. "Is it away from all this? Away from him?"

“I would say Rome. It usually the place I return to. But anywhere I go, he's never far behind.” he told her. “I did had an olive tree grove once. A simple home. I was my favorite home. I made a good farmer if you can believe it.”

“I can believe it,” she told him.

“Really?” he asked.

“Yes. Really. Is it still there?” she asked.

"No, it's been gone for a long... long time. One of those places he eventually found."  
   
"Do you miss it?" she asked.  
   
"Every day," Quinlan said.  
   
"Is that kept you going?" Myla asked.   
   
"What do you mean?"   
   
"Hunting the master... hunting his kind. Is it because of what you miss?"  
   
"Yes. Every day I hope for revenge after all he's taken from me..."  
   
Myla sat quietly for a moment, a quizzical look on her face.  
   
"No, that's not what I mean.” she wasn’t really sure how to explain what she felt. “You don't keep going for as long as you have because of revenge. It’s too bittersweet."  
   
“Our fates have always been intertwined, it is my purpose, to kill him. It only helps that he’s taken everything from me on more than one occasion."  
   
"Well, I suppose you've lived longer, so I shouldn’t raise question," she said hesitant. "I won't argue."  
   
"What are you insinuating?" Quinlan asked finally looking down at her her head still against his chest.  
   
"I - suppose, when I was using drugs... I had to learn that if I was to keep going, past all the pain - it was going to be for all the things life had to offer, like the olive grove, a home, someone to love. I didn't get clean because I wanted something back... you can't get those things back. You always have to fight for the next taste of life, whatever that is."  
   
Quinlan was silent.  
   
"It's not about him bringing you death, but the fact that you once held the gift of life. Doing so defies him."   
   
An entire minute had passed before he spoke. Something... about the way she’d said that made him question what he thought he’d known about himself for more than a thousand years.

Myla was about to apologize thinking she had upset him.

"I had a wife, and her little girl.” he told her softly. It made him happy to speak of them. “They were given to me by roman law, but I never saw them as property only... as a gift. I had come to care for them dearly - they were perhaps my only true sentiment in this world...” then she heard him inhale and sigh. Myla know how this story ended. “...and when the Master took their lives..."  
   
Myla turned up to look at him, she saw the sadness in his eyes, his gaze was distant... thoughtful.  
   
"... I suppose after all these years, I kept fighting because I had life, not because he took it." he admitted. He'd forgotten after all this time that the human life he had set aside had been the thing that had made him want to live in the first place. A reason to fight the Master in the first place. "...But it doesn’t change what he's done. Anger is like fire. It burns all clean."  
   
“Hmm.” Myla said. He could see a smile on her face, why would she smile after everything she’d just told him? Quinlan looked at her with a scowl.   
   
"I must say, Mr. Quinlan, that is the most human thing I have ever heard."  
   
Quinlan's scowl turned into the smallest of smiles, and once again, perhaps his human side did rule more than he'd allowed himself to think. She settled against him once more.

“How did you get this way?” she asked.

“What way do you mean?”

“Like... you're so lonely.” she asked tentatively.

“I have stayed hidden most of my life. Humans are not kind to someone like me. It is better to stay in the shadows.”

“But even you’ve spoken of your comrades... business transactions... even now your wife, your daughter. When you’ve lived as long as you have you’re sure to have made a few friends along the way. Someone to live life with?”

“There were the ancients.” he said. “Training the other sun hunters. I spent a large amount of my time raising boys to become skilled fighters.”

“But no one to be yourself with?” she asked.

“There weren’t many who I would call friends, no.”

“No one to teach you of social subtleties?” she giggled.

“You’re saying I should be better at this. Lying naked and chatting?” he asked.

She sensed a joking tone in his voice.

“No... I’m just curious about you.” she said. “Forgive me, you shouldn’t be anything you aren’t.”

“What about you?” he asked raising any eyebrow. Her twenty questions would be enough for now. “ You’re quite young, how do you explain your ability to be so... convincing?

“Oh believe me, I was like you once. Quiet, stern. Raised by my mother, but under my father’s rules. We were not...” she paused, “...I was not meant to turn out this way. If the drug use wasn’t evident enough.”

“If I may ask, what stopped you?”

“From... _using?_ ” she asked hesitantly. That was an answer she wasn’t sure she was ready to give.

“I’ve seen a vice rule someone’s life. Death is an easy and most likely outcome for most.” Quinlan said so matter of factly.

“Thats... well quite the story.” she said. “I’ve never told anyone about it. God knows my therapist tried to get me to start there but I was too afraid of what could happen to me.”

“Fear?” he asked inquisitively. “Fear of what exactly?”

“I...” Myla bit her lip and twisted the sheet from nerves. “I killed someone. A few years back.”

Quinlan didn’t look shocked. _Why the hell would he?_

Quinlan could tell however that it bothered her.

“It’s not something I remember very clearly.” she admitted.

“Why?” he simply asked.

“I would get high for work. Made it easier to make it through the night. And one night I worked at the Olympian. Girls would go there occasionally for private affairs. And there was this man. Very demanding. Controlling. and I just got this sick feeling like something bad was going to happen to me.”

“Your survival instincts.” he told her.

“Hell of an instinct to hit someone upside the head with a crystal decanter.” Myla said. “His head started pooling blood... all over the floor... I just -” as Myla recalled that night she felt a heavy weight subsiding, “-I just ran. Ran all the way to another state. I never thought I’d be able to come back here to New York... I never could tell Vasiliy why I left or what had happened.”

“You’re a fighter.” he said plainly. “When you’re thrown into the pits at a young age, you learn how to survive, and then how to fight. It’s all instinct.”

“The pits? What do you mean?”

“When I was a slave I was often forced to fight. I’d killed a number of people, and even large animals before I got a taste for killing with a sword.”

“Animals? Like what sort of fighting-”

“Sport. That sort of fighting. Though I was still a slave, I was a respected gladiator.”

“Like in the Colosseum?” she asked, wide-eyed this time, she understood the Professor's recent references to a Gladiator. He had only been referring to Quinlan. 

“The very same.”

Myla wretched her arm out over his chest touching the many different scars that lingered on his body.

“Where’d you get this one?” she asked.

“Dagger. Through the belly. He got lucky. I’m afraid I don’t recall what he looked like.”

“And this?” she asked, two fingers touching the claw marks across his collarbone.

“A lion,” he said.

“And these?”

He chuckled. “Another lion.”

“They healed so quickly, but the scars remain?” she asked.

“All of them,” he told her. “If my complexion wasn’t enough to deter others, my scars surely would.”

Myla smiled at him. She touched his scars and looked at him like none of what he said mattered. _She wasn't afraid of him after all._

“You thought killing someone would change the way others saw you,” he stated, somewhat defending his comment, since she hadn't spoken.

“But it would have. It still would,” she whispered. He could see a tear escape the corner of her eye.

“I disagree.” he said. "It was my profession for a very long time, _it is_ a damn sport. And humans do it every day." His gaze was stern now, demanding that she understand. "Killing someone who was going to harm you... there is nothing more justified then that.”

Myla somehow felt better at his words. Like a weight was lifted, telling someone had made her feel less burdened, but to have him still accept her... she hadn’t expected that.

She moved up the bed and kissed him again. Just as soft as she could, as a thank you.

“This was…not how I planned the day to go either.” he eventually said.

“I…am really…not complaining,” she said breathlessly.

“And I…allowed my desires to get out of hand earlier. I hope I didn’t hurt you. Or upset you by...”

Myla swallowed, her she’d nearly forgotten she’d let him _taste_ her blood.

“It didn’t... make you ill, did it?” she asked.

“No, I actually found it... rather unique. I can’t say I’ve felt that way before,” he told her.

“Like... what exactly?” she asked.

"Rather odd really. The sensation is hard to describe," he told her.

"Like a good nightcap?" she said laughing and smiling up at him, pulling him closer once more. “There’s nothing wrong with…indulging a little,” she said. “Who knows how long either of us have left.”

“Me especially.” he said looking into her eyes.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“I have... a responsibility,” he said. “It is why I am called _The Born.”_

She ran her fingers over his chest and she heard him take in a breath that was returned as an audible moan.

She reached further down, finding the specimen that had just sent her into an oblivion three times over.

She squeezed his member tightly, he was already stiffening against her palm. She was certain he’d barred his teeth at her.

“That’s against the rules.” she murmured. “We go back to work tomorrow. But for the rest of the night... let’s just be here, we only have the one night.”

She leaned in again and kissed him passionately. Every fiber within him was torn between tearing himself away, and tearing her apart. Somehow he managed to settle in the middle.

She kissed him, softly and deeply. When she pulled away, he chased her mouth and claimed it again.

After all, morning was still a few hours away.

* * *

 

As the sun rose, both of them were wide awake. They were completely exhausted from escaping the tunnels, and a night filled with passionate sex. Myla could barely hold her eye lids open, but she’d forced herself to - she didn’t want to leave this night behind. Even though they had both promised that they would.

Quinlan left the bed first. He was silent, saying nothing, perhaps there was nothing to say. They had made an agreement. She knew that.

But as she dressed in her dry clothes she felt like her admitted secret was going back into the darkness.

The weight snuck back onto her shoulders, and she’d wished morning had never came.

When they were both ready to leave, Quinlan broke the dreaded silence.  
   
"Myla, I didn't want last night-"

"No, don’t worry." she stopped him, "I know what we agreed to. Besides you're an undead-human with a job to do... don't worry, we'll be alright. Or I will, rather."

_Human, she’d used the word human, not entirely true, but he liked it all the same._

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve let my desires get the better of me. Control is something I take pride in... but you are a beautiful girl, stripping your clothes off, dancing in the rain. It’s all quite stirring.” he paused, “I appreciated our night together.” he said somewhat formally.

Myla returned his compliment with a smile and placed her hand over his heart for one last moment with him, and he placed a small kiss on her forehead.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should add, this isn't just going to simply roll into a relationship. It's passionate/intimate, yes. But this isn't going to be easy for anybody. Buckle up, here we go.


	10. Anger

Vasiliy was hastily zipping, and unzipping bags just before dawn. First, he’d forgotten his gun and then didn’t pack his ammo. Once he remembered everything - it wouldn’t fit in the bag. So he pulled it all back out again before trying to rearrange the items in some way that didn’t cause him to throw the bag across the room.

Vasiliy hadn’t slept that night. He had barely been able to sit since that pile of rubble had collapsed.

All night long he had mulled over the last week and a half… his sister had been here, right where he was standing. And he’d spent... maybe two days with her? Vasiliy had spent the last two years wishing she’d never left. And now he gets the chance to try and make things right and he… he was fucking busy. Had she understood that? These were fucking vampires we were talkin’ about.

Vasiliy hated the way he felt. Guilty, responsible... regretful.

He thought back to those two weeks when she’d disappeared without a word. Vasiliy had worried for her then just as he was doing now.

The ominous feeling he felt when he had found her apartment empty had wormed its way back into his stomach once again.

At least back then he could do something... call her cell phone, call her friends, check the Fairy... but now - all he could do was wait for the damn sun to rise and reflect on the past.

He’s put her in this position before and it nearly killed her the first time.

* * *

 

5 Years ago 

 

_“Okay, okay we can go. But only because it’s your last night on earth as a free man!” Vasiliy said._

_“Boss says the Fairy’s got the prettiest girls - none of that two-o'clock in the afternoon tricks,” Rick said._

_“Okay, okay! You’ve convinced me! I’m going to hit the ATM and empty my damn paycheck!” Vasiliy said._

_The four exterminators had gone out that night to celebrate Rick’s bachelor party. They’d been to three bars, had plenty of drinks, and by then Vasiliy had already been given four girl’s phone numbers._

_They’d taken their boss’s advice and hit a local club that had a good reputation for pretty girls._

_And that night they’d had the time of their lives. They ate good food, met a few women, and made as many jokes about a married men as they could. Rick hadn’t appreciated that part as much._

_But Vasiliy enjoyed himself nonetheless, finally accepting an offer to take advantage of a private dance from a blonde woman named Danielle - she was pretty - and had only offered him a dance. Vasiliy was certain some of the other girls had been offering do a few things that weren’t exactly legal._

_He still remembered thinking he liked Danielle’s green sequined outfit. He remembered following the curve of her body just before she started to dance -_

_…and then he saw Myla._

_She had on a lavender wig, some kind of costume made up of ruffles and straps. It made her look… well like something Rick would have paid for. Vasiliy had instantly recognized that tattoo on her shoulder, he pushed away Danielle so fast he hadn’t realized he’d hurt the poor girl._

_“Myla!” he called out, leaving his private room to find her standing in the hall shocked to hear her own name._

_“What the hell?” he said._

_“Vas?” She asked._

_“What are you doing here!?” he asked._

_Danielle had emerged from the room behind him to call the bouncer._

_“Lavender, is this guy bothering you?” the bouncer asked, before putting himself between the brother and sister._

_Vasiliy’s temper rose quickly, went to push past the man, determined to get an explanation from his sister._

_The two men ended up in a struggle._

_Myla tried to stop them. “No, no - Stop!”_

_Vasiliy eventually ended up outside face down in the alleyway._

_He was furious. And It didn’t help what had come next._

_Myla stepped out of the alley way entrance, some fake fur coat covering her outfit, the purple wig had been pulled from her head leaving frayed strands of brown hair and pins poking out of the side of her head._

_“Vas, what are you doing here?” she asked._

_“What am I?” he was angry now. “What THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”_

_“I work here!” she said._

_“Why the fuck does my baby sister work here?!”_

_He said standing back up on his feet. Now he towered over her, it was off-putting - but she had held her tongue about his job choice long enough._

_“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought we didn’t question what the other did. I didn’t ride you for becoming an exterminator, so why don’t you just leave-“_

_“Are you sleeping with these - these guys?!” Vasiliy asked._

_Now that one had hurt. Questioning her integrity, but how could she blame him with the way she was dressed._

_“No Vas, I don’t do what some of them do,” she said._

_“Oh but you’re still in those back rooms, I know what happens back there, nothing good that’s for sure!”_

_“Vas - don’t get into this right now, I’ll have someone take you home-“ Myla stumbled forward to take his arm._

_“Are you drunk right now?” he asked._

_Myla was silent. She didn’t want to press the subject of her sobriety further._

_“Nnno. No,” she stuttered._

_“What, are you high?” he asked, meaning for it to be a joke._

_Myla was silent._

_Vasiliy’s anger rose._

_“Lulu what have you done?” he asked._

_“It's not bad, I just take it sometimes to get through the night - I don’t use it all the time,” she said. “And don’t call me that!”_

_“Use what Myla? What exactly are you using?”_

_She didn’t say anything, only shrugged her shoulders. “I - It’s - a few things,” she admitted._

_“Myla... why would you do something so stupid?!”_

_“I’ve only been paying all the bills since you left! Why don’t you take a turn and pay mom’s bills! The bank wants fifteen thousand before Friday, or we’ll get our first eviction notice.”_

_Vasiliy stopped in his tracks._

_“Oh yeah. That’s right, Mr. Rat Catcher doesn’t want to be bothered with Mom and Dad. Don’t worry, I don’t blame you. Dad’s always been an ass, and you know what, but it’s really getting on my nerves since I saved the Chrysler from being repossessed. Does Dad thank me? No. Not even when they believe I’m working my ass off at the dance company, and waiting tables. You know he believes a lot of things. You probably could’ve just lied about dropping out of school and he’d believe you were still there!“ She was trying to pick a fight with him._

_“Myla… what have you done to yourself?” he asked deeply concerned. He could see a drunk hazy glaze across her eyes, no tears. He didn’t know it had ever gotten that bad, he didn’t know she had been handling all this herself._

_“I told you, I’ve paid bills.”_

_“What is Dad gonna say?” he asked._

_“Nothin’ as long as you don’t tell him.”_

_“Fuck, Myla.” Vasily’s hands ran through his hair as he took in the uncomfortable information._

_“You can’t work here.”_

_“Then you pay the bills!” she shouted again._

_“I didn’t think things were… that bad,” he said._

_“Well, they are. I lost my scholarship Vasiliy! I lost everything because you wanted to follow your dream! Mom got sick, and... I couldn’t see her get kicked out of her home!”_

_“I just didn’t want to - I didn’t want to be an architect,” he admitted. “And I didn’t know things with mom were so bad. When I could talk to her, she said things were fine. If they’re this bad, I’ll help. Tomorrow we’ll go to the bank, get this sorted out. You could have told me, Myla!”_

_“Please, you couldn’t even make hospital visits.”_

_That one had hurt Vasiliy, but after the falling out he had with his father, he had distanced himself from them all._

_“You know that’s not how that was.”_

_“Yeah well, you left it all up to me when you stopped showing up.”_

_“You know Dad told me he never wanted to see me again!”_

_“Yeah, well that’s dad. Not Me, not Mom. She misses you Vasiliy.”_

_“Then I’ll come, okay? You can quit this place right now, let’s go.”_

_“You-you mean it?” Myla asked shaking now under her coat._

_“Of course I do.”_

* * *

 

Myla had left with him that night. Not even bothering to tell anyone she was quitting. They’d gone to Vasiliy’s flat in Red Hook. She’d made a lot of promises to him that night, and she made a few to him as well. He only wished she had kept them.

Myla had tried to get back into her Ballet Academy with Vasiliy agreeing to help her with bills. But her spot had been filled.

Vasiliy had gotten to keep the job he wanted. Myla lost her chance to have hers. He supposed he expected her to still be using drugs just a week later.

When Vasiliy became concerned that her habit was only going to get worse, he decided to tell their parents about where Myla had been working, and what she had been doing.

Vasiliy of all people should have known better. It had already happened to him once, but he guessed he was angry that Myla said she’d stop using. Maybe he wanted to somehow force her hand into getting better.

But telling them had only made her it worse.

Vasily didn’t think they’d kick her out.

Their father had turned his back on his last child, and the good relationship they had with their mother was going to be hidden by their father for as long as he wanted.

Vasiliy felt guilty when she got worse. She went back to that club, and even though she assured Vasiliy she was fine, he knew better. In some attempt to help her, Vasiliy would give her checks addressed to her landlord, trying to help pay for a small studio near another dance company.

He never did find out about the fake ID she used to cash the checks.

Vasiliy never knew much about her life after that. He knew she still danced at that damn club. He knew the drugs were getting worse. Whenever he saw her she seemed to be wasting away to nothing… and then one day she was just gone.

Until he’d gotten a voicemail from her two weeks later, Vasiliy had thought she was dead.

 

* * *

  

The elevator ‘ping’ was what pulled him out of his daze. Slowly coming to terms with the idea that Myla may actually be alive. She ended up okay back then, maybe... just maybe...

Vasiliy’s face relaxed when he saw Myla standing in the back of that elevator, unscathed. She looked a little matted, and dirty, but still had a smile on her face.

“Myla... I - I didn’t mean it to-”

“I know Vas.” was all she said before embracing the sad man in her arms.

Vasiliy hugged her then, feeling relief throughout his whole body. Over her short frame, his eyes caught Quinlan’s. He noticed the dust on his jacket, the dried white blood streaked across his clothes.

 

Vasiliy was compelled to thank Quinlan.

_But he didn’t._

Part of that stubbornness he got from his father.

 

“We were about to go and look for you,” he told Myla.

“I know you were,” she whispered back.

Her brother’s face lit up when he was certain she was unharmed. Myla told him the story of their escape and even exacerbated Quinlan’s heroic accomplishments. Though, Quinlan wasn’t around to hear any of it. He had checked in with the professor, refilled his uzi mags, and retreated out the back stairs before anyone had noticed. Myla had sadly, expected him to do so.

“He dug me out of that rubble, Vas. I really owe him,” she said finishing her story.

“Maybe you should take that shotgun next time huh? I found it in your room, unloaded. You’ve been using that sword a lot?”

“Quinlan’s been showing me,” she told Vasiliy.

A pit fell into Myla’s stomach, would Quinlan continue to show her how to use her sword? Or had they soiled that by sleeping together? she wondered.

“You... trust him?” Vasiliy finally asked.

“He saved my life Vas. When he didn’t have to. So yeah, I trust him.”

“Maybe he was just uh- hungry, huh?” Vasiliy asked. “Wanted to uh - take you along in case he wanted a snack?”

Vasiliy was kidding. But Myla had to hide a flush across her face when she thought back to Quinlan between her legs. If she blushed in front of Vasiliy, he’d ask her more questions.

“Silver. Remember?” she said.

“Ah, right,” Vasiliy said.

“He’s not so bad,” Myla said. “He’s actually...”

“He’s a half vamp, Myla - could be on either side of this, don’t be so quick to trust him, eh?”

“Calm down Vasiliy. Maybe you should just be a little grateful I’m not still pressed under a slab of concrete.”

“I’m so sorry Lulu, I couldn’t sleep all night. thinking of you out there, I was worried sick. Half the time I pictured you trapped in those tunnels, the other half of the time I couldn’t help but think Quinlan would be the next dangerous thing out there. All I could do was think about that time I lost you at Coney Island. It was only twenty minutes but It felt like forever you know?”

“It felt like forever when Dad wouldn’t stop yelling at you,” Myla said.

“Yeah, that’s true, now that went on for forever.”

“Speaking of which... let’s go check on them this week, yeah?”

“Okay, we can do that, I promise,” Vasiliy said.

Myla embraced her brother once more and pulled away with tired eyes.

“I’m going to shower, and sleep for the next two days,” she said. “It was... a long night.”

She didn’t do so well hiding the smirk that crossed her face.

“Alright, good night kid.”

“Night Vas.”

* * *

 

Vasiliy fixed a pot of coffee and joined the professor. He couldn’t help but feel bad that Myla had been stuck with these two for as long as she was. Even the professor was starting to bore him the way his eyes did nothing but read page after page of that book.

The worst part was he was still bothered about the tunnels. He knew he’d been careless and put his own flesh and blood in that situation. He owed Quinlan for what he’d done, but Vasiliy still didn’t fully trust him.

“So you uh - do nothing but read that book huh? You uh found anything yet that’s going to help us kill the Master? When can we uh go back to ordering takeout and yelling at the TV like real New Yorkers, huh?”

“I have not had it long enough to unveil all its mysteries.” the professor simply replied.

“Well you’ve had it for over a week, and you still haven’t finished reading it yet?”

“Mr. Fet this book is information compiled over the last several centuries. One cannot simply ‘read’ it as they would any other book.”

Vasiliy rolled his eyes and sipped his coffee.”

“Well uh - I got good news, Justine Feraldo wants me to come by later and meet a few of the Navy SEALs.The government’s investigating our theory about the king rat muncher that may have started the whole outbreak on the plane. So they're sending these SEALs to see if it's true, and guess who gets to give them their orders? Me.” Vasiliy said proudly. “I get to steer these SEALs to strigoi hot spots... we could find him, professor, we could get the bastard. Don't you see? They’re starting to come around to the reality of what’s really going on here.” Vasiliy told him.

“It’s a sound a plan as any.” The professor said, eyes unmoving from that damn book.  
  
“That’s the rousing vote of confidence I was looking for Professor,” Vasiliy said sarcastically. “Its gotta be good, right?”

“Why not?” Setrakian said.

Quinlan’s presence had unnerved Vasiliy. His silent arrival was enough to get his blood pumping. If Quinlan wanted to be seen as a friend, maybe he should keep those Strigoi tricks to himself.

“Word to the wise, don’t sneak up on my blind spot unless you want to eat a rebar sandwich.” Vasiliy quipped.

Perhaps a bit harsh, considering he had meant to give Quinlan his thanks, except Vasiliy was still concerned with too many things. It was easier to hate Quinlan, then appreciate him.

“Your centurions...” Quinlan stated, unfazed, “...if they do find him you must let me at him first before you pursue him. I can finish him, they cannot.”

“Let me tell you something about humans alright? Listening in on people’s conversations is not polite. And these centurions you're talking about? They are the best of the best.”

“Every failed empire had a legion of elite warriors,” Quinlan noted.

“How many of those warriors had night vision goggles and automatic assault rifles?” Vasiliy raised his eyebrows and hoped the professor would back him up, but his eyes were still scanning the book.

“Technology offers no advantage over the Master,” Quinlan stated.

“Look, what these guys do, they do better than anyone else in the history of the world, including a half-vampire. Ten bucks says we get to him before you, or the magic book.”

“Why would you bet against me if we’re on the same side?” Quinlan asked. “After I risked my life saving your sister?”

There it was, he was asking for it like Vasiliy was supposed to owe him something.

“I’ll be honest Quinlan, I don’t trust you. Sure you brought her back in one piece, but who’s to say you weren’t planning on leaving her behind? You’ve got a stringer like a strigoi, you drink human blood, maybe you just wanted a light dinner huh? I’m not sure why you saved her, and maybe that makes me trust you even less. I’m not sure if that makes me a racist, or a creaturist or anti-strigoi but there you go, Fet’s a hater.”

“Mr. Fet!” Setrakian said intervening. “That’s enough.”

“Why don’t you give me and the professor a moment alone to have a conversation... you know Humans only?” Fet said.

Quinlan locked eyes with the professor, before nodding his head and leaving.

“How can you trust that man?” Vasiliy asked.

“How can you not?” Setrakians asked. “He’s been instrumental in translating the Lumen, and he saved your sister’s life. When she so clearly stated he didn’t have to.”

“Please, he saved her because it was convenient for him. It keeps him in our good graces so he can have a hand in that book, how long will it take before he gets everything he needs the Lumen? You're sharing rent and utilities with a muncher on steroids. What happens when you wake up with a stinger in your neck?” Vasiliy asked.

“If I do, your ‘I told you so,’ will be a source of great comfort before you dispatch me,” Setrakian said irritated now.

“Don't be so sentimental,” Vasiliy said. Vasiliy had once again let his anger get the better of him. He knew there was no use in arguing with the professor, at least not while that damn book was around. Vasiliy figured it was best to leave, and cool off. He was still sick to his stomach about the night before and needed to focus on work to take his mind off it.

“Fine. You do your thing, I’ll head back out and hunt for the master.” Vasiliy said.

“Mr. Fet. Perhaps you should have a word with your sister about leaving?”

Vasiliy walked toward the elevator, ignoring the professor’s words, telling himself that he would be back before she even woke up. “If I see the Master I’ll tell him you said hello,” Vasiliy said before the elevator door shut.

* * *

 

Quinlan hadn’t expected Vasiliy to thank him. Quinlan never expected anyone’s gratitude, it was better that way. Myla had thanked him though, she had done more than thank him... It had been a surprise but appreciated. Their night together had even come to take a special place in his mind. So much so that he hadn’t yet been able to move past it. He figured falling back into his usual routine would allow him to move on, but he found himself replaying their conversations... her smile, and even some their more intimate moments.

Unfiltered human kindness had always been his weakness.

Quinlan had even gone as far as to check on her once he had returned. She had been fast asleep in bed, holding a pillow the same way she had held him the night before. Her hair wet from a recent shower, her soap more fragrant than ever...

How easy it would be to slip in beside her and just be held.

But that would be breaking his rules. Their promise. That night was a thing of the past, and he would have to focus on his sole purpose once more. The brief break from it all... all things considered was a nice way to say goodbye to whatever human life he considered himself to have these days.

Quinlan watched Myla only for a moment before deciding to leave but stopped to admire the plant she had rescued a week ago. A sad dying thing, broken on the floor was now beside her bed and growing a small leaf from its center. It had been alive after all.

 


	11. Weakness

Myla was furious.

Vasiliy had promised her. Fucking promised her.

If he wasn’t going to stick around long enough, she was just going to do it her damn self.

Myla was standing on the roof again, she had attempted to practice swinging her sword but once the professor had told her Vasiliy had left yesterday she began to let her emotions get the better of her.

Myla lit up one of Gus’s cigarettes and attempted to calm herself.

She’d already begun to regret sleeping with Quinlan, she wished she could work out her frustration through swordplay. She rolled her eyes at her own innuendo. She could always go for another round of that kind of swordplay too.

_'Myla, shut the fuck up.' she told herself._

She took another drag on her cigarette and tried to reason with herself.

She tried to focus on what mattered. Vasiliy, she needed to see him, to see their parents. Her dad wasn’t always there for either of them, but their mom was an angel - and Myla needed her. When Vasiliy didn’t see that as a priority, Myla had just let herself get angry.

She took another drag and tried to focus.

Maybe he’ll be back soon.

Myla had at least gotten a nights rest. Well, more than a night, she’s slept all day and all night. She’d woken up sore, but well rested. In an attempt to relieve some of her pain she stretched. First touching her toes, and stretching her calfs just like she used to do when she had danced. And before she knew it, she was working out her stress through an Arabesque.

With her cigarette gone she moved to support one leg in a demi-plié, with the other leg extended behind at a right angle, with her arms stretched forward she created the longest line she could with her body.

_'Okay, this feels better.' she told herself._

She hadn’t practiced ballet since she’d worked at the Fairy. It had been a long time, and for some reason, she hadn’t wanted to.

She wondered if talking to Quinlan had somehow lifted some of the guilt she had been carrying all these years. Quinlan had been so... unfazed by her admission. It made her feel better when she thought about what happened seven floors below her all that time ago.

She could still feel the weight of the crystal decanter in her hands.

As she imagined it, she was thrown off balance.

“What exactly are you doing?” Quinlan asked from behind her.

If she didn’t already have both feet back on the floor, she would have fallen.

“Fucking hell, Quinlan. You’re as silent as ever,” she mumbled. She gave Quinlan a stern look, realizing his hood and glasses were shielding him from the sun.

“Are you practicing?” he asked.

“I’m not practicing with my sword if that’s what you’re asking.”

Quinlan was silent.

“I was just stretching,” she explained.

Quinlan looked at her, still silent.

Myla looked at him now, happy that he looked at her just as he’d done a few nights before. Their tryst had been locked away and hidden by the both of them. Their new conversation was distant and vague.

“I’m just fooling around,” she said.

“You seemed dedicated... to your balance,” Quinlan said.

“Exactly how long have you been watching me?” she asked.

“Only a short while,” Quinlan said. “You seemed, distressed.”

“I - I’m angry. That’s all.” Myla said.

Quinlan pursed his lips together, “Is it about our-”

“No - not that,” she said quickly waving her hand. She wanted him to know she respected their agreement.

“It’s about Vasiliy leaving again. He promised he’d go downtown with me. Check on our parents.”

“He’s stubborn, that man,” Quinlan added.

Myla laughed. Somehow Quinlan agreeing with her made her feel better.

“You staying or going?” she asked as she gestured to the rooftop door.

“Staying,” he said.

“Well come on then, that Lumen’s not going to translate itself,” she said. Myla picked up her bag and headed inside. The sunlight seemed to bother him, and she didn’t want to stand out there any longer either.

Myla wouldn’t admit that it was their proximity had brought back a few feelings. It had been a long time since she’d spent the night with someone, and even longer since she had a meaningful conversation with someone other than her therapist.

If she wasn’t careful she was going to want that companionship again, and it wasn’t something either of them thought was a good idea. But that didn’t stop her from smiling at him, or wondering what he was thinking.

After brewing a pot of coffee, she traded a cup of the hot liquid for the Lumen so she could copy a few more pages. When she handed Quinlan his pages, their hands touched for a moment. The small connection of their fingertips had even seemed intentional. She appreciated the gesture and sat next to him on the couch while they both looked over pages. Myla was trying to decipher the notes taken in both men’s penmanship, though the professors were sloppier and harder to read. Myla was making a sort of index for the copied pages, hoping that somehow it was helpful. The translations were way over her head.

But it did come in handy. They quickly found out the Lumen repeated itself a few times, and there were connections through out the whole book, just not in a consecutive order. Myla had begun rearranging the pages into like categories. She sat on the floor, spreading out her sets of pages when she heard the professor start to snore.

Startled, she looked up, then at Quinlan. The professor had fallen asleep in his chair, the Lumen in his lap.

Myla stifled a giggle.

“I don’t think he slept last night,” Quinlan said.

Myla rolled her eyes, “This is what happens when I’m not around to tell him to sleep.”

“He’s nearly done translating it, but it’s secrets and riddles have him backtracking,” Quinlan said.

“Already on that,” Myla said gesturing to her piles of papers.

She turned, Quinlan was still on the couch, scribbling something across one of her copies.

She admired his posture, sitting straight, like a warrior in all poses. Even in bed, the man had carried himself with such confidence and discipline, she had to push the thought from her mind when she felt herself blush.

_This might be harder than she thought._

She quickly glanced over his shoulder, making note that he was now translating Chinese.

“Are you? Is that-” Myla took a seat next to him, closer this time. “How many languages do you know?”

“Quite a few,” Quinlan said.

“Here, this...” she said pointing, she leaned into him touching the symbol in the corner, “...it goes with these.” Myla picked up a pile of pages that held the same symbol. “Is this the symbol for the occultation?”

“It looks like they are all referencing it in some way,” Quinlan said.

Myla thumbed through the pages, Turkish, Chinese, Arabic, Spanish... “Each of these cultures... it started with an eclipse.”

“He’s used it to travel before. The eclipse allowed him into Manhattan.”

“Here,” Myla said, she picked up her piles, and Quinlan met her at the counter.

She laid them back out.

“So these are the eclipse, these are the Sumerian translations the oldest accounts in the book. This pile is anything to do with demons, angels, including the chapter on Lilith. These all contain the Ouroboros. These here are the Vrykolakas, Pricolici, those with wolf-like descriptions.”

Quinlan touched several of the pages, hovering over another symbol.

“Why haven’t you organized any by this symbol?”

“The eye?” she asked.

Myla reached out to touch it, grazing his hand as she did. Then she fanned out the pages in her pile.

“I haven’t found what it means. It’s on almost all of the pages. It would make for one big pile.”

Quinlan noticed the eye, it was clearly hand drawn on each page, they varied in size and placement on the page. No congruency could be seen.

“I thought about making another set of copies of the pages with the eyes. But I don’t know what I’d do, map them on the page I guess, see if there’s something else they related to.”

Seeing the pages all spread out like that made Myla uneasy. All these single eyes staring back up at her from the table.

“It’s a bit eerie. They seem to be looking at us,” she said.

Quinlan had never seen the symbol before, but for some reason, it was familiar to him.

“You’ve done good work. Finding the connections we cannot yet see.”

“Well, you do all the hard work,” she said looking up at him.

She didn’t notice how their gaze had lingered on one another. Perhaps both of them got lost in the ease of their interaction. They relaxed for a moment, after a day staring at these pages, it could make anyone a little crazy.

She turned back to the many eyes scattered on the table. She needed to distract herself with work. If she didn’t their night together would find its way into the forefront of her mind.

_But it was already too late for that._

She had already done this once, she had been bold, pushed him until he was convinced. But she would be risking more this time, their deal was made, this would be breaking the rules and he had every right to push her away. But she couldn't help that their night together had given her feelings for the man.

So she just stepped forward, close enough now that they were nearly touching.

Even Quinlan had discerned that the other night was still in the front of his mind. And today had been the first day they had seen one another since that night. Even he had thought about stretching the rules... he just wasn’t used to someone looking at him the way she did.

Especially the way she was looking at him now. He tried to change the subject.

“Has your leg healed?” he asked, “And your arm?”  
  
“My leg yes, my arm isn’t far behind,” she said.

Quinlan outstretched his hand, and she gave him hers. He pushed up the fabric of her long sleeve shirt, finding the fresh scab he had bandaged the night before. He knew her leg didn’t look this bad, even though it had been the larger wound.

Quinlan thumbed the rough skin for just a moment before he pulled her the rest of the way towards him.

Both of them remembered that fervor from the other night all too well.

Because she immediately met his lips to lock into a kiss that left them breathless. The professor was still asleep, only a glance away, but their lips couldn’t pull away from one another. Just like the other night, everything was a quick and heated movement. Myla was even so bold as to bite his lower lip, even meaning to egg him on, she wasn’t afraid of any part of him, and that... well turned him on.

Her arms were wrapped around his neck, his hands had a grasp on her hips.

But Quinlan pulled away abruptly. She took this time to catch her breath.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. Hoping she hadn’t offended him somehow.

Quinlan pressed his lips to her forehead before separating himself from her.

“Your brother has returned,” Quinlan said.

Myla turned around to see the elevator counting upwards to their floor.

She hadn’t heard a thing.

She turned back to see Quinlan’s face once again return to its stern facade. She was pink around the mouth, lips raw from their kiss, and Quinlan looked no different, just pale.

The elevator ding still surprised her, even though she was now expecting it.

Then the doors opened, she looked down at her pages still spread across the table. Quinlan was gone.

“Hey kid.” she heard Vas said sadly. “Sorry, I uh - got tied up last night.”

“By work or women?” Myla joked.

“Work,” Vasily said with disdain.

Myla could tell something was the matter.

“What happened?” she asked. “Why’d you come back this late?” she asked. “We don’t have time to go down to-”

“- I lost them all,” Vasiliy said. “Every damn one of them. _The Master must’ve known..._ it was like they walked into a trap.”

“Oh... shit,” Myla said. “So - your SEAL’s are all... dead?”

“Dead or missing,” he said. “And we know what missing means.”

“Shit, Vas. I’m sorry.”

“How the old man?” Vasiliy asked.

“He’s sleeping. If you can believe it.” Myla said. “We’re trying not to wake him.”

“And what’s all this?” he asked looking down at the copied pages of the Lumen.

“Just a bit of categorizing,” she said.

“You uh- getting’ somewhere on this book?” he asked.

“We’re getting a lot of questions and vague answers,” Myla said. “It is meant to be cryptic.”

“Well, why don’t I help out? Could you make something for dinner? You were always good at making mom’s recipes.”

”Uh, yeah Vas. Sure. I don’t have much to make anything mom would find dinner worthy, but I’ll make you something.” Myla said.

“Thanks, kid, I could use a good meal after the night I had,” Vasiliy said.

Myla crossed her arms and gathered her papers, and headed for the kitchens. Vasiliy made his way into the next room finding his way to the bar to settle for a pre-dinner drink.

Vasiliy had higher hopes for last night. He really thought they were close and that the Master just might be within their sights. But like all their plans so far, this one had been a bust too.

Vasiliy caught Quinlan’s eye for a moment. The two of them were silent before they both heard the elevator ding from down the hall. They both knew it wasn't anyone they were expecting. Quinlan was already past Vasiliy, ready to greet the intruder.

Vasiliy made his way into the hall just in to find Ephraim Goodweather on the floor, with Quinlan’s hand around his throat.

“How do you know the professor?” Quinlan asked.

“Whoa! Quinlan, ease up he’s a friend.”

Vasiliy helped Ephraim up, Quinlan took a step behind him, still not ready to trust the man.

“What the hell is that?” Ephraim asked, looking up at Quinlan.

“It’s a long story,” Vasiliy said.

* * *

Myla walked into the Professor’s office to find a small gathering that included a newcomer. They each had a tumbler of scotch in their hands, solely speaking about the event that had occurred over the last few weeks. The doctor seemed to be intrigued by their work on the Lumen so far, but doubtful at its ability to help.

“Myla had done considerable work organizing the translations. Much of the Lumen is a historical account, describing types of strigoi or their whereabouts.”

“And the destruction of the master?” Ephraim asked.

“It’s still a mystery. So far the face of God is said to be the only way to destroy him. But the Lumen’s full of similar riddles.” Setrakian said.

“So we're not any closer than we were before?” Ephraim asked.

“We’re trying,” Myla said interrupting. “There’s some food in the kitchen if you’d like. It’s nothing special but it’s hot.”

“Thank you, Myla,” Fet said before standing up.

“I don’t know when I last had someone cook for me,” Ephraim said, looking at Myla.

Myla ate quietly while the old friends talked. She realized that a death of their friend and the doctor’s son missing made her worry about her mother. It wasn’t easy to stay alive in this world, and their poor mother couldn’t even carry in the groceries the last time Myla saw her.

She started to think the worst.

She slipped out of the kitchen and found her way to the bar. She sighed looking at the shelves of liquor. She settled for a beer. It was a weak move, but it calmed her nerves.

It didn’t take long for the doctor to find the bar himself.

“So your Fet’s sister,” Eph said.

“Seems that way,” she said sarcastically.

“Can I get you something stronger?”

“I’m quite fine with this, thank you,” she told him. She watched as the doctor poured himself a large glass of vodka. His drink did make her  _slightly_ envious. But the Doctor was quick to try and impress her with his credentials, and knowledge of this disease. It came off rather pompous, and she didn't appreciate the way he almost seemed to talk down to her.

She was relieved when Quinlan interrupted them.

She hadn’t seen Quinlan since Vasiliy’s arrival, even though that momentary kiss was still in the back of her mind. She should’ve been smart enough to stop it from happening. Quinlan wasn’t a talkative man, but in their brief time spent together, she knew that his focus was on the same thing he’s been obsessed with for over a thousand years.

She shouldn’t get in his way.

"Myla, if you'll excuse us," Quinlan said.

Myla nodded and slipped away, but not before hearing a moment or two of their conversation. But since she knew Quinlan could hear her lingering at the end of the hall, she opted to turn in for the night and leave them be.

* * *

 

For the next couple days, Myla cooked a few more meals and had a few late night chats with the professor. Quinlan had come and gone once, but only to see the professor. Myla had tried to make eye contact with him, but he seemed to avoid her. She now wished she hadn’t gambled with the one friend she did actually like in this place. Then she pushed him too far by taking that second kiss.

She could use a few more fighting lessons too, her ballet was getting better, but her sword was sitting unused.

_One of those things was a bit more practical at a time such as this._

On one particular night, the professor had exhausted himself, and Vasiliy hadn’t returned yet. After losing those SEALs, there was a lot of talk about the government pulling out of New York entirely, and Vasiliy was trying to fight and get them to stay. And because of that, Myla was slowly coming to understand why Vasiliy was gone all the time. She couldn't resent him like she did all those years ago... this time Vasiliy was trying to save the whole city.

The doctor had allowed himself to get pretty drunk, the last two nights. And he would often hover over her and the professor. The worst part was Ephriam had kept offering her drinks as well, and Myla had to be pretty firm on telling him no.

She just couldn't trust the man. Not when she heard the way Quinlan spoke to him. If Quinlan hadn’t trusted him, why should she?

Her assumptions had proved correct after she had gone to bed. She must have been asleep for hours before she felt the bed compress next to her. It woke her up. She had hoped it was Quinlan, perhaps ready to continue their 'conversation' from the other day. She'd even curled herself against him, welcoming the hand that cupped her side... then her breast.

But then the scent of alcohol struck her, and she panicked, reaching for the closest thing to her, she used it to hit the Doctor.

It had been a lamp, and shards of ceramic had shattered all over her bed and onto the floor. And then she saw the blood from his temple smeared across the hardwood.

It was a habit... she ran. She went for the stairs to the roof, but quickly detoured and took a bottle of rum off the shelf of the bar. 

And now here she was, pacing on the roof sucking back on a cigarette in nothing but her underwear and a tank top.

_He’s fucking dead. I’m a fucking murderer, again!_

She stopped herself from hyperventilating again by smothering herself with nicotine and a big swig from the bottle. She was pacing, still frantic. There had been so much blood... why did she have to pick up something so heavy?

“Myla?” Quinlan asked.

“God - FUCK. Quinlan,” she shouted. The damn man had snuck up on her again, and she hadn’t appreciated it. “I tend to hit people that sneak up on me,” she said.

“That sounds like something your brother once told me,” Quinlan stated.

“Ha- I’m sure it fucking does,” she said shrugging.

“Something is bothering you?” he asked.

Myla tossed her cigarette and took another drink of rum before grasping onto the labels of Quinlan’s coat.

“I need you... to check something for me,” Myla said.

“Check what exactly?”

“I need you to see if Ephraim is dead.”

“Why, what happened? Has there been an attack?”

“No. No.” Myla said. “I just hit him, okay? And there was some blood... and he wasn’t moving...”

“Where?” Quinlan asked.

“My bedroom,” Myla answered.

There was a second of hesitation between them. Quinlan wasn’t sure why the Doctor would be in her bedroom at this time of night.

Quinlan simply nodded before leading her back down the stairway.

When they got to her room, he almost laughed. Without opening the door, he heard the man’s heart still beating, and he could even hear him snoring.

“The doctor is fine,” Quinlan said.

“Don’t... don't you have to see him!?” Myla asked.

“I assure you, I can hear him,” Quinlan told her.

“I - you’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Myla let out a relieved laugh.

“If I may suggest, perhaps taking a bed in one of the other rooms for the night, let the Doctor wake up confused and humiliated,” Quinlan said.

Myla smiled at his comment.

“Probably one hell of a headache.” she said.

“I assure you, I’ll check on him before the night is over. But you... should get some rest.”

“I will, I um. Well, thank you, Quinlan. I’m sorry for freaking out on you.” she said placing her palms on her face.

“It's no problem. I can assure you... if he enters your room uninvited he can have me to deal with,” he told her.

Myla’s hands still shook as she held the bottle, her guilt had subsided, but the memories from two years ago felt like they could have happened an hour ago. She was hesitant to leave. Afraid to be anywhere in this place alone.

“Would you stay with me?” she asked suddenly.

Quinlan’s eyes darted across her face, “Myla we can’t let anything physical happen again, it was wrong to even let things linger as we did -”

“No- just... stay with me. You don’t have to sleep with me or... even sit down on the bed, but I - After last time I don’t think it’s good that I’m alone.”

“I suppose, I could. If you think it's for the best.”

“Just... for tonight, until I get my head clear,” Myla said.

Quinlan only nodded this time. Following her to a bedroom on the farthest side of their floor. It was small, a bed and a closet. But she settled in, slightly drunk now and incredibly tired. Quinlan stood against the wall she had her back to. He waited till she was asleep, before deciding that this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. He did sleep, just not very often. And when he did sleep it was always alone, and to wake up next to someone, that... sounded nice.

He kept his clothes on and only lay atop of the sheets. But he still found the pillow around his neck to be comfortable, and when Myla’s arm found its way across his chest he found it soothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about how late this was. I hate saggy middles, and to be frank I'm not a fantastic writer. I'm just here because fanfiction is fun and expressive and I love stories! Anyhoo. I'll try to be better in the future, thanks for your patience for those who are reading and enjoying.


	12. Death

Quinlan listened as he heard the professor stir in the other room. He’d clearly been drunk enough to make himself sick. Quinlan could hear him rummaging in the bathroom for a bottle of pills. Quinlan attempted to slip out from Myla’s grasp, he planned to confront the Doctor, but his movement awoke Myla. She sat up, shaking and gasping.

She had even startled Quinlan.

“Myla, are you alright?” he asked still sitting beside her.

He watched as she nodded, her heart rate began to slow, and her breathing steadied. 

“Was just... having a nightmare,” she said as she tried to shake the image of eyes from her head.

Myla was happy to see Quinlan still here from the night before. Not so happy to see the half-empty bottle of liquor. 

“Thank you... for staying,” she said.

Quinlan nodded beside her. Myla reached out for his hand, and she was grateful he didn’t pull away. 

“The Doctor is up, as I said he would be-”

Myla forced a smile, “good.” 

“I’ll have a word with him,” Quinlan said. 

Myla shook her head,  “No - don't.” 

Quinlan looked at her puzzled. And she looked into his eyes.

She hated how she found the man so stirring, she hated how she craved his warmth beside her. She had foreseen this, she had tried to avoid it, but here she was craving his companionship. She was smart enough to know this was only going to end badly. But it didn’t keep her from placing her palm on his cheek.

His hand met hers, even he liked the touch to his skin. It was so rare that he felt anything like this that these few moments with Myla had begun to be something he cherished. 

“Myla-” he began.

But she cut him off. “I know... what you said. I know it’s not a good idea. I just enjoy these quiet moments with you.” 

“As do I,” Quinlan admitted. “But we both know I am tied to the fate of this. There is no time, no sense in -”

“Sense in what?” she asked hopefully.

“Sense in being human.” he finished. “I was selfish of me to indulge as I did.”

“Then why do we still end up like this?” she whispered, her forehead against his. 

“I had no idea you’d befriend me as you did, and I had no idea that I’d admire you in the way that I do.”

“In what way is that?” Myla asked.

Quinlan stopped himself from answering her question. _He admired her, he did._ He admired the way she treated others. In the way, she would give away a part of herself just to better someone’s life. He supposed she would do the same for him if he dared ask her to. 

He knew that she showed remorse for killing someone who deserved to die. For hurting the Doctor. That told him that her heart was as just as Tasa’s had been. She was kind, forgiving... she was everything he was not. She was every human part of himself that he wished he could be.

_But that was in another life._

And this was Myla, and he didn’t need to give the Master a reason to seek her out. Not when he was so close to fulfilling his destiny. 

“That you’re strong.” was all Quinlan said. “You’re a fighter.”

Myla smiled up at him. 

“Perhaps in another life,” Myla said before she placed a kiss on his cheek. 

Quinlan returned the gesture by brushing a piece of hair out of her face. 

_‘If she knew what I was planning, she wouldn’t be so kind to me,’ he thought as he remembered his earlier conversation with the Doctor._

“Thank you, Quinlan,” she said before she placed a quick peck on his thin lips. She rested her head on his shoulder as her hand found its way down his neck, resting on his Strigoi markings. They found themselves in the same position they had been in after the tunnel collapse, embraced in another’s arms, hoping things were different. 

They stayed like that for an hour.

“I never asked you how you got these,” Myla said looking up at him and with a single finger tracing the dark lines that ran across his face. 

“Silver scars,” Quinlan said. 

“Why are they so...”

“The pattern?” he asked, he knew that was what she meant. “It was like a muzzle for a dog, when I was a slave they kept me harnessed in it so I would not harm anyone near me.”

“How long were you kept like that?” Myla asked, her deep concern was touching to him. 

“Most of my youth, I was eventually freed by someone much like Setrakian. A kind woman, she told me of my destiny and brought me out of that dark confusion I was born into.”

Myla traced the scars delicately. 

“You’re a very strange creature,” he whispered. 

Both Myla and Quinlan heard Vasiliy talking to Ephraim down the hall. They were probably looking for Myla, and Vasiliy was inquiring about the gash on Ephraim's head. 

“I suppose it’s come to be that time,” Quinlan said.

Myla nodded and slid away from him she made her way to the edge of the bed. Realizing she hadn’t brought any clothes with her, when she turned back to Quinlan, he was already gone.

Luckily too, Vasiliy was checking the last bedroom for Myla, and upon opening the door he found her and that bottle of rum. 

“Myla what the hell are you doing?” Vasiliy asked.

“I’m just getting up,” she said.

“Yeah from an all-night bender? What do you think you’re doing? There’s only half a bottle here Myla please don’t tell me you drank it all.”

“Whats it to you?” Myla asked. “I can do what I please.”

“What’s that? I’m sorry which of us enrolled in a detox facility? Which one of us went to rehab? Hm?”

“Vas. It’s fine, it was one drink. I didn’t-”

“Actually Fet it was mostly me.” Myla heard Ephraim say from the hallway. “I drank most of the bottle and when I had too much to drink last night, Myla took it from me.” 

Vasiliy looked at Myla, and then back at the Doctor.

_He was damn right he was going to take the fall for this._

“Well good on you, the Doc got so drunk he sliced his head open. Good thing you had the sense to take the booze.” Vasily said. 

“Great. Can I go shower now?” she asked.

“No. Not so fast. The professor and I have a trip to take uptown, and if you’re drinking, even if it’s only one - I want you to come along on this.”

Myla rolled her eyes.

“I can’t have you sleeping with a bottle of rum in your room, I want to keep an eye on you, make sure you’re alright,” Vasiliy told her.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Myla said, “I’m not a child!”

“Come on kid, daylight’s burning!” Vasiliy said as he closed the door. 

 

* * *

 

Quinlan was finally alone with the doctor when he returned later that day. The others had gone out, and he happened to find the Doctor in the most precarious of situations... trying to crack the safe in which the Lumen was hidden.

Quinlan took pride in knowing his instincts had never failed him.

“What did the Master offer you for it?” Quinlan asked. 

“Oh, you again,” Ephraim grumbled. 

Quinlan only looked back at him. 

“If you’re here to have another chat I’m not in the mood.”

Quinlan was pleased with Myla when he saw the gash on the side of the Doctor’s head.

“Why, don’t want to admit I was right about you from the start?” Quinlan asked.

Ephraim hesitated and sighed, “My son, alright? The Master has my son.”

“The Master often uses family as coercion. It is his cruelest game, and I have to be honest with you, this won’t get your son back.”

“Yeah well, thanks for the advice but-”

“-But what I can offer you is a chance,” Quinlan said. “That book will lure the Master into the open... and I can kill him. That will leave you with the best chance of getting your son back.”

“I was wondering when we’d get to this part. I didn’t think a half-human, half-strigoi hybrid really threw all his chips in with a Strigoi hunter.”

“It’s called _hunting_ for a reason Doctor. Now if you’d be so kind as to turn off the UV lights.”

“What are you going to do about the safe?” 

“Please Doctor, that lock is child’s play.”

 

* * *

 

As they drove Ephraim couldn’t help but want to ask a couple biological questions. He was a doctor, after all, any chance to study the disease fascinated him. Quinlan was by far the most fascinating specimen yet.

“So… help me out here. The Master’s not your biological father, right? Its just Strigoi by their very nature don’t process the proper equipment.”

“If that inquiry was meant to be a joke I’m just as happy to ride in silence.”

“No, I’m serious. I want to know how it works is it like transduction?”

Quinlan looked at the Doctor perplexed. 

“It’s when genetic material transfers via - “

“I’ll save you the time doctor. I was conceived by two humans, two healthy humans - and at some point, my biological mother was stung by the master. There is a scripture, stating that when a pregnant woman is infected the born will bare his mark, but not carry his plague and that this creature will be their undoing. For some reason, the master was prevented from destroying her at that time, leaving me to be born.”

“So when your mother turned... you grew.”

“I was born into darkness, Doctor. Within me, the Master has sewn the seed of his own destruction, and with his demise, I will return to that darkness.”

“So when he dies, you die? That... doesn’t make any sense.” Ephraim said. 

“This has always been a suicide mission for me.”

“If a myth happens to be true,” Ephraim said. “I’ve cataloged this disease from the beginning. Despite its destructive capabilities, it’s a very intelligent organism... to say you share such a connection that would render you dead after the Master’s death would be like... believing in magic.”

“It is true,” Quinlan stated. “Three weeks ago you believed in nothing, do not assume to know what you will believe three weeks from now. Assuming you're still alive.”

“I hope to hell I will be,” Ephraim said.

“I will warn you however if you sneak into Ms. Fet’s room again, you’ll have to do more than hope.”

Quinlan’s eyes were obscured by dark lenses, but Ephraim felt his glare nonetheless.

“She told you about that huh?”

“She asked me to make sure you were still breathing.” 

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t deserve the hit to the head.”

Quinlan let out a low chuckle.

“If I had caught you in Myla’s room, you would not be breathing.”

“You sound more protective of her than Fet. At least he only threatened to hit me if I tried anything.”

“Well Doctor, I am not Mr. Fet.”

"You... sweet on her or something?" The Doctor asked.

The rest of the car ride and the Doctor's question was met with an awkward silence. The doctor didn't make any more inquiries before they ended up at the convenience store down the street. All that was left was to make a call to the Master.

* * *

 

When they returned to the Olympian, Myla found the place eerily quiet. She was trying to understand the meeting with Eldritch Palmer, not quite understanding how a human could have been behind such treachery towards its own species. But though the conversation had left her bothered, she couldn’t understand why she felt like something was wrong. 

Then the Professor began to yell. Myla made her way down the hall quickly, afraid that the old man had collapsed again, but when she got to the study, she realized he was likely to collapse soon. 

The Lumen was missing. 

Myla realized she hadn’t heard the generator’s hum that had been powering the UV lights. That had told her something was out of the ordinary. Now all she could do was wonder where the hell Quinlan was, and hope he wasn’t behind this. But the safe was wide open, both Quinlan and the Doctor were gone, and Myla didn’t think the Doctor was skilled enough to crack a safe. 

“That damn muncher!” Vasiliy said.

“You think he took the book?” Setrakian asked.

Myla furrowed her brow, “he had to... why else would anyone turn off the UV’s?”

“I never trusted him,” Vasiliy said as he removed his laptop from his backpack. “I knew once a muncher, always a muncher!”

“Vasiliy we couldn’t have seen this coming, we took precautions,” Myla said.

“I saw this coming. Which is why I slipped a tracking device into the spine of the book.” Vasiliy said. 

“Seriously?” Myla said, “Do you not trust anyone?” 

“Well, I stopped trusting you when you lied to me, why should I trust some half-muncher that drinks human blood.”

Vasiliy hadn’t meant for his comment to hurt her, but it did all the same. She folded her arms and waited while Vasiliy turned on his computer. The professor relaxed a little when Vasiliy said he had a signal. 

* * *

   
Myla was strapped into the backseat of Vasiliy’s car once again, slightly sick to her stomach. She as biting her nails down to the skin, wishing she could smoke a cigarette while Vasiliy chatted about the silver grenades he’d brought to give them an edge against Quinlan.

Myla should have been angry at him. She should have felt betrayed.

But somehow she didn’t.

She really had hoped that his plan would somehow bring him to the Master. After this morning, she had felt something for Quinlan. And she had meant what she said about another life. But whatever drew her to Quinlan was to be lost and forgotten, he would be dead soon if he succeeded and that made her sad.

“There’s not much light left... but we can catch him. He’s not far away. He’s outside the checkpoint, so we’ll have to be careful.”

The professor tossed back a couple of pills and Myla sat in silence. 

When they pulled up to the pier, it was obvious they were in the right place. 

There was gunfire, Uzis. 

“Those... are my Navy SEALs!” Vasiliy said, 

“Vas... I don’t think-” Myla started to say.

“Hey, guys!” Vasiliy called out.

The men stopped and turned to look at Vasiliy. The twitch in their neck gave them away.

“They’ve been turned...” Vasiliy added.

“No shit,” Myla said taking a step back, her hands went to her sword drawing it. 

She watched as the SEALs turned back around and opened fire on... _Quinlan._ She watched as bullet after bullet pierced his body. The three of them moved forward, only spectators to the battle. But Myla stopped in her tracks when she saw the Master.

Even though they had only talked about the Master. Seeing from a distance made him all the more real... all the more frightening. Like a nightmare of a thousand eyes. 

She looked to her left, in time to see the professor tossing a grenade as far as he could. The silver grenade landed on the grass, and it managed to stun the SEALs, their shrieks were enough to make Myla cover her ears. She watched Quinlan take another shot to the chest, how many was that now? Eight... or nine bullets? 

Vasiliy threw the last grenade, the professor shouted and Myla saw Quinlan hit the ground. 

The silver hit its target, landing just in front of the Master it managed to maim him. In a last stitch attempt, the Master reached for the Lumen, grasping it weakly as Quinlan rose from the grass. He drew his sword and Myla held her breath as she watched the next moment unfold. 

Thousands of years had come down to this moment. She remembered what Quinlan had told her, about being ready to meet his destiny.

She couldn’t watch.

* * *

  
Quinlan felt something stir within his chest when he saw the Master double over in pain. He’d executed many in his lifetime, and the way the Master bent down to grasp the Lumen allowed him to have the perfect view of his target. With sword in hand, he walked toward the end of his life with strength. 

All those lost to him were now about to be avenged, all others would be protected. He was glad to give his life in this moment. 

Quinlan raised his arm, and with battle cry rumbling deep in his throat he brought down his sword - severing the Master’s head from his body. The head rolled away, white blood pooling at his feet, and soon Quinlan saw a dark halo creep around his eyes.

_'That quickly,' he thought._

It was happening... _he was dying._

_He let out a breath of relief._

Quinlan fell to his knees, he saw a brief glimpse of his mother, then Ancharia, Tasa... little Sura - just how he remembered them. His body gave out and he soon found himself on his back looking up at the stars. The city no longer obscured their light - and then he saw _her,_  Myla's was head obscuring the constellations above him -  her dark hair had fallen on his face, it smelled of lily and lavender, he felt her palm cup his cheek just as she had done this morning just before his vision went black completely. 

_‘What a lovely way to leave this world.’ he thought._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was short -- I'm soon to be forced to large amounts of best rest in the near future, so I hope to flesh out this story and update more quickly. Thanks for everyone who's enjoyed the story so far! Happy your here.


	13. Uncertainty

Myla’s hands were cradling Quinlan’s limp head. Before he’d shut his eyes she had seen relief wash over him. She wondered if it had been the Master’s death, or perhaps her presence at his side.

“Careful with that!” Vasiliy said. “He’s injured! He could sting you to try and heal himself, why don’t you back away?”

“Vasiliy!” Myla spat.

“Ever cornered a wounded rat? They’ll do anything they can to survive.”

“I’m fine Vas. Is it - is the Master dead?” Myla asked.

“Missing a head, I’d say so,” Vasiliy answered.

Myla looked down, Quinlan was definitely still breathing.

“Quinlan’s still alive,” she said. “Isn’t he supposed to - be dead?”

The Professor who had been lost deep in thought looked down at Myla’s lap and nodded.

“Perhaps he was wrong,” Abraham said. “...Or perhaps we were,” he said even quieter. “Mr. Fet we will need Mr. Quinlan that is if he is, in fact, going to live.”

“What for Professor? The muncher stole your book, you really want to invite him back for the party?”

“We can’t just leave him here!” Myla said.

“Ms. Fet is right. Mr. Fet, if you would please, and Ephraim, if you would help him.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ephraim said. The Doctor was looked upset, he had been standing away from the group looking around like he was going to find someone else with them.

Vasiliy and Ephraim said nothing to each other as they hoisted Quinlan into the back of Vasiliy’s SUV. Quinlan’s head was still sitting in Myla’s lap as they drove back to the Olympian.

She had two fingers glued to his neck for the entire car ride back, still relieved to feel a faint heartbeat. When Quinlan had first explained to her his connection with the Master, she knew his entire life had always been a suicide mission. But to have Quinlan here, still alive... and the Master dead she couldn’t help but hope he’d stay with her.

When they arrived back at the Olympian, Vasiliy and Ephraim helped carry Quinlan inside to a large table. The one in the kitchen had enough space to let Ephraim examine him. Myla absentmindedly began to undress Quinlan, even though Eph had told her he could handle it. But she knew how to unhook the harness that carried his sword, and the one underneath his coat that held his guns. Ephraim was going to cut through the leather in an attempt to remove them faster, Myla wouldn’t let him.

Myla didn’t notice when Vasiliy tried to pull her away, or when Ephraim demanded she leave.

She was still trying to control herself and not seem upset. But Vasiliy knew her better than that.

“What’s gotten into you, eh?”

Vasiliy had managed to get her into the elevator back up to the top floor. He knew she wasn’t okay, that there was something Myla wasn’t telling him.

“That’s it right? It’s over?” Myla asked.

“I don’t know, I think so,” Vasiliy said as he poured himself a drink.

“Can I get one of those?” she asked.

Vasiliy poured her a small tumbler of vodka and let it slid across the counter into her hands. Myla swallowed the glass in one sip.

“What’s gotten into you?” Vasiliy asked.

“I’m just concerned. I don’t know - ” Myla said.

“For that muncher? The one who took the book without asking anybody?” Vasiliy asked as he raised his eyebrows.

“Well it worked didn’t it?” Myla said. “The bad guy is dead, now we’ve won this thing, right?”

“I don’t really know kid - but that doesn’t change what he did.”

“Yeah, well he doesn’t have to die because he took a fucking book - alright Vas?”

“You’re sure defensive of this guy -”

Myla stormed into the other room slamming the door behind her. She made her way to the bathroom to wash off the white blood from her shaking hands.

It didn’t take her long to find the bottle of rum she’d left in her room this morning. She filled her glass halfway before taking a rather large gulp. Seeing Quinlan like that scared her, she already thought he was dead after she’d seen him take the Master’s head. But when she looked into his eyes... he had seemed so happy.

She could hate herself for letting her feel this way about Quinlan. She was smarter than that, they had even discussed this. They were nothing more than friends, and he’d made it clear that they could never be anything more.

She finished her glass and left her room as soon as she heard the elevator arrive on their floor.

She walked back out into the foyer to find Vasiliy with a cigar in his mouth, and the Professor with a glass of his own.

Ephraim was behind the bar helping himself to his own drink, clearly upset at himself and with the way things had gone that night.

“How’d Quinlan talk you into it?” Vasiliy asked.

The doctor with tears in his eyes took a sip of whiskey from his glass before he admitted the plan was his.

“The Master offered me Zach - all I had to do was give him the Lumen.”

“So you... betrayed us? I expected that from Quinlan, but not you Doc. After everything you told us, about Nora... and after all, we’ve been through I didn’t think it’d be you.”

Myla having never liked the man to begin with, didn’t flinch when Vasiliy punched him. Though, she did feel pity for the Doctor after learning how much he’d lost. The way he clutched that bottle of booze reminded Myla of a younger version of herself.

But pity or no pity, she was happy when the professor asked Ephraim to leave.

* * *

 

Quinlan was still in a strange frame of mind. It was like a dream, only he didn’t really know what that was like. He slept very little, and it had never involved dreaming.

But this is what this had to be, right? He was back in that brownstone building with rain splattering against the windows with the smell of concrete, pears, and olives in the air. He didn’t know why he was here, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this at peace. He was nude, with soft sheets were wrapped around his body, and beside him was Myla.

She was lying on her stomach, the sheet draped over her backside barely covering her lower half. The whole moment was moving slowly. Her legs swayed back and forth, her heartbeat was steady, and she was looking at him. She had this way of making him feel human... like he belonged beside her.

He liked the feeling.

When his eyes opened to the glaring halogen bulbs his pupils constricted.

His chest hurt, and he was cold.

He sat up, swinging his legs to the side of the table. He recognized the kitchen of the Olympian Club. Confusion hit him full force, did he dream about killing the master? It couldn’t have been real, or he wouldn’t be here. He touched the bullet hole wounds that had recently been stitched. He remembered the harbor, the doctor, and most importantly, he remembered beheading the master.

His hands touched his face in disbelief. He was lost in thought, brought back only by the sight of Abraham Setrakian.

“Am I alive? Or are you in hell with me?” Quinlan asked.

“Purgatory at best,” Abraham said.

Quinlan looked at his disrobed state, feeling vulnerable, he asked for his weapons. The professor gestured to the table behind him.

“What happened?” Quinlan asked.

“You saw,” Abraham said.

“I killed the master?” Quinlan asked.

“You chopped his head off.”

“Then how... how am I alive?” Quinlan asked.

“Could you have been wrong, about dying after the Master dies?” Abraham asked.

“I suppose one only gets the one chance to prove such a theory...” Quinlan looked around, almost hoping to see someone else in the room with them. “... what is the state of the city now?”

“Strigoi roam the streets still feeding, but rudderless. There is no sign of a central intelligence.”  
“That’s promising,” Quinlan said flatly.

“Yes,” Abraham said.

“You seem... not to be convinced,” Quinlan said.

“As do you,” Abraham said.

“I did not expect to be pondering this issue.”

“I think we will need to investigate further... to be sure.” The professor said, “Perhaps if Ms. Feraldo doesn’t have the upper hand within the week, we will know we need to investigate our suspicions.”

“I agree,” Quinlan said.

Quinlan looked down at his new wounds, never having taken this many bullets before, he too was surprised he was alive.  
   
“I thought I should mention something someone like you may have missed.”

“Someone, like me?” Quinlan asked.

“Ms. Fet is a dear girl, she’s kind and good, and certainly deserves more than the likes of you. But if there is something... between you two-”

“What are you insinuating professor?”

“I may be old. But I am certainly not dumb.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to. I assure you, I have no plans to seduce the girl.”

“Right. Mr. Quinlan. As I said, I’m not dumb. The doctor may have attended to your wounds, but it was Myla who took care of you.”

The pregnant pause between them was awkward. Quinlan’s mind was flipping through the memories he had of Myla while keeping his usual stern facade as he denied the professor once more.

“Care, as you said professor, she is kind. Those who are kind tend to care for others.”

The professor looked at him and rolled his eyes. “She was unfazed by any of the scars on your body, or the sun hunter brand on your shoulder. She even placed that towel under your head. She wasn’t just being kind, that Mr. Quinlan, was clearly something more. I’m not sure what emotions you’re capable of, but regardless. you would do well to push her away before that girl does something as stupid as fall in love.”

Quinlan was silent. “Believe me, professor, I know what fate awaits her if that were the case, I couldn’t be so cruel to someone so kind.”

* * *

 

The glass broke beneath his feet as he made his way past exam rooms. Someone had been through here recently, more than likely to raid the pharmacy. Fortunately, Quinlan was only here for the blood. This doctor’s office kept bags of O negative in the back, still, good thanks to a generator fail-safe system.

He broke the latch on the door and look out as many bags as he could. Though the doctor had helped him by sewing up some of his wounds, he still wasn’t going to be at a hundred percent unless he had human blood.

The first two bags of O negative were gone in seconds, his stinger punctured the plastic bag like it was the soft flesh of someone's neck.

The next three bags he took his time with, now that he didn’t feel like he was starving. He wasn’t sure of what to think - this whole day had been one he didn’t expect to have. In all his life he’d never been this disoriented, and that feeling couldn’t be accounted for by bloodthirst alone. He felt disconnected. Having always been able to sense his father had been something he’d come to despise, but now that hum had disappeared and it felt like his thoughts had been turned up in volume.

The Professor’s conversation hadn’t helped. It didn’t bother him that the professor had noticed something between him and Myla, or had suspicions about their relationship. But the professor had managed to let Myla worm her way back into his head. And in his weakened state, it was so easy for him to want to crawl into her arms and just sleep for a century.

This wasn’t good for him. He didn’t like feeling weak and off-guard. He needed to be sharp, strong, smart. He had commanded armies, trained warriors and traveled across continents but losing his purpose had spun him.

He finished the seventh bag of blood and packed up the rest in a bag before leaving to return to the Olympian.

Daylight was nearly gone but he couldn’t help but make his way to the roof when he caught a whiff of those menthol cigarettes Myla would sneak away to smoke. There she was, staring at the stars, perhaps now was the time to fix one confusing aspect of this new life - the thing that distracted him the most.

“Myla,” he spoke softly. This time he didn’t catch her off guard and scare her. She flicked away her cigarette and turned towards him.

“Hey, you’re looking better,” she told him. “I didn’t know you were up and about.”

“I left to feed.” he said.

“That explains it, you’ve got your color back.” she joked.

He didn’t know why he’d found it funny.

”Were you angry with me? When I took the Lumen?” he asked softly.

“Sure, a little,” she said flatly. Myla paused. Wondering how much more to say. “...But when I saw you lying there.” she looked up at him now, sadness in her eyes. “And all I could hear was you in my head, telling me that when he dies, you die... and there you were, dead.”

“The professor mentioned that you were attentive to me while I was unconscious.”

“I uh - was a little emotional. I’m sorry about that. I thought you were really gone.”

“So did I,” Quinlan said.

Silence fell between them.

“So what’s next?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

“Are you okay with him being gone?” she asked. “Are things different?”

“I don’t know that either. I never expected to leave that pier.”

Myla stepped forward, she placed her hand on his coat in an attempt to comfort him.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” she said.

He did want to kiss her when she said that. He believed that she meant it. And he knew if he asked, she would take him to her bed and perhaps she could help him find meaning in this new found life.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea for us to become any closer,” he whispered.

“I - I know that.” she stuttered. She was caught off guard by his warning. Not ready to admit a part of her was still interested in his affection. “I thought you were dead and...”

Quinlan placed his hand over hers. And with the other he cupped her cheek, he liked seeing her straight teeth as she smiled, he ran his finger down her pointed chin.

“I’ve found myself with another life, one I did not intend on living.”

_“In another life.” she wanted to say._

“This has not proved well for me in the past,” he said before separating from her embrace. “If I’ve learned anything from my human half it’s that the emotions that come with being with another can be fleeting,” he saw the sadness fall over her eyes, “and crippling.”

“I know Quinlan,” she said.

“Why then? Why would you choose that?”

“I think you know,” she whispered still to afraid to admit she felt anything for him.

Quinlan did know. And it scared him to know. Everything he had ever cared about had died at his own hands. His Mother, Encharia, Tasa, Louisa... he had slain them all because of what he was, and because of who he must be.

“I told you once. I will tell you again. I am not human.” he said. “And I will not play this game with you any longer.”

Lie. _Lie... Quinlan._ You must.

“I am a devil, just like those before me. I was born with a glorious destiny, and to let myself become distracted by something such as you has bewildered even me. So perhaps you should stop playing at this, go home, and let me do my work.”

“That is a lie, you are a man. You are more than a man, you-” her words caught in her throat. Tears stung her eyes. “You’re lying to me, Quinlan!”

“I assure you, I am not,” he said forcing a smile on his face. That same crippling feeling he had just spoken about was now sitting on his shoulders, ready to press him to the floor. “You are a pretty thing, you felt good, you tasted good, but I did warn you.”

“Send her away.” Quinlan had once told Gus. “There is only one way to save her and that is to send her away.”

Myla’s palms were covering her tear stained cheeks now. The ache in his chest was making his stinger rattle. He’s knees wanted to collapse to the floor seeing such a beautiful thing in such pain. “Beauty and love are fleeting...” he told himself. “This is for the best.”

Quinlan tore himself away. Slowly at first, keeping up the act. Then leaving her all at once.

He made his way throw alleyways, empty streets, block by block until he felt like he was far enough away from the things that might hurt him. Still being unable to sense the Master left him addled and confused, like his compass wasn’t sure what way to point anymore. He had never expected to be here.

He started to question everything, everything he’d been told, everything the Professor had brought up.

And then a little voice in his head asked him what was so wrong about her. If the threat was gone, why couldn’t he take that chance?

The threat of thousands of Strigoi still hung over their heads. There were accidents, illness, a number of things that could take someone from him. He’d learned more than once that the pain wasn't worth it.

_Or was it._

This uncertainty drove him mad. Unable to know or predict what could come next for him in the hundred or thousands of years he’d be alive terrified him. It was like an abyss stained with the pain of loneliness and he wasn’t looking forward to any of it. That voice got louder. It was telling him to fill the void with sweet things, something he’d...

_“No.,” he told himself. “This is all I am, and ever will be.”_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, quick apology for the wait - I had surgery and thinking my downtime would allow me to write was very foolish thinking, indeed. I hope to have another chapter out in a couple days to make up for lost time.


	14. Wanted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least this one is nice and long to make up for all you patient people.

Myla sat silently while she sipped her coffee. Vasiliy and Abraham were eating breakfast while she was trying to nurse a hangover and deal with her last night’s conversation. Luckily she did well hiding her emotions, Neither of the men seemed to notice her quick exit from the roof last night or the liquor she’d slipped into her coffee this morning.

Vasiliy was still over the moon about his king rat being dead. He was already looking forward to becoming a regular New Yorker again. Myla was doing her best to ignore him, her head had been throbbing most of the day and her cigarette break certainly hadn’t done the trick.

“I’ll need to stop by my old place and get the last of our silver stash,” Vasiliy said. “All we need is a bucket full of those grenades and a few muncher nests and this city’s ours again.”

The professor had been quiet most of the morning but Myla did happen to catch him smiling every now and then.

“Say, in the morning how about we go get that silver and I’ll show you how I make those special bombs. Then we’ll go rat hunting, sound good Lulu?” Vasiliy asked,

“Yeah. Sure.” Myla said as she pinched the bridge of her nose trying to ease some of her growing pain.

She sucked it up anyway and headed out with her brother, and then for the rest of the day, it was only, Silver Silver Silver.

Myla quickly learned it was heavy.

They had hit up two pawn shops and Vasiliy’s old apartment, coincidentally, finding Ephraim and a Ms. Dutch Velders that were both equally drunk and carving up Strigoi they had captured on the street. The sight had turned Myla’s stomach. To see her brother’s apartment, a familiar place, turned into some kind of medical lab had left her unsettled. Luckily she and Vasiliy left quickly due to a page he’d received from Justine.

“You can come along, meet the guys, yeah?”

“Yeah, can we leave the bags in the car though? This shits heavy.”

“Of course we can,” he told her. “Sorry we can’t go straight to mom’s but this is important.”

“Yeah yeah, At least I get to see where you go run off to every day.”

“There are a few good cops left, a lot left the city, but now, even more citizens are volunteering. Everyone’s doing’ their part you know?”

“And this silver is ours,” Myla said patting her backpack.

“Later I’ll teach you how to put them together.”

“You mean...? Oh no! I’m sure there are more qualified individuals to help you put together grenades, Vas.”

“Yeah well, I thought it could be fun for us.”

“You’ve always had some strange ideas about fun,” Myla said as she rolled her eyes.

 

**[Office of Emergency Management - Cadman Plaza - Brooklyn, New York.]**

 

When they arrived at the OEM, Myla realized for the first time that the resistance was a group effort. She’d been with Alonso Creem long enough to think everyone was just on their own trying to survive on a daily basis. But here, she saw that people were still fighting the good fight. She couldn’t hold anything against Ms. Feraldo for keeping Vasiliy away from their own agenda.

Justine had a real fighting chance here, and that was something to care about.

Myla sat in a nearby room while Vasiliy told the others the good news. Myla was quickly sorted into a task group that was putting together emergency essential kits for neighborhoods that had recently been cleared. She was actually grateful there were no copies to make, or strange markings to stare at, and most of all she was glad to have some distance from Quinlan. It was probably for the best and if she wanted to stop slipping she was going to need to get a grip on herself.

Myla had always been good with her hands, these kits were easy to put together and she actually enjoyed her company. They were mostly wives or mothers with great homemaking skills. This only reminded Myla of her mother, and she wondered what she was doing right now. Was she making blankets for neighborhood kids, or taking canned goods over to Mrs. Crovolas?

Myla was deep in thought, as two powerful blasts of C4 explosives shook the building.

She and several other women hit the floor as the glass shattered from the windows next to them. Myla looked up, all she could see were splatters of white, there were entire computer systems completely destroyed... and then she saw the worms.

Her first instinct was that someone had made a mistake handling equipment or some kind of nut off the street, but a strigoi walking in here already hardwired to explode? What kind of attack was this?

She thought the master was dead, and this kind of retaliation was far from her mind. But it seemed that she wasn’t the only one to have underestimated her enemy. She saw Vasiliy strip off his jacket, and several people were shedding their clothing as quickly as they could. Though Myla was, unfortunately, able to witness several people become infected as they were unable to pull the worms from their hair or out from under their clothes.

“Stay down.” she told everyone nearest her, “Don’t touch the white or the worms, and don’t let anybody touch you, do you understand?!”

She received a nod from an older woman.

Myla left the room and headed for her brother, he was at Justine’s side holding a UV light to her face. Dust and debris made their way into Myla’s eyes. She covered her face as she passed through the crowd of panicked peopled.

“What happened? Is she okay?” Myla asked.

“Yeah for now,” Vasiliy said. “Just help the others.”

Myla looked around for someone to help. She pulled a couple of people out from under a desk, helping move some nearby coats that were still saturated by worms.

Paramedics from down the street arrived on the scene, but instead of their usual medical equipment, all they had were biohazard bags and chemical hazard suits. When Myla lead the others safely outside she could hear more people screaming, many were already dead, and others would turn a matter hours whether they were a body on the floor, or standing beside her right now.

* * *

 

Vasiliy brought Myla back to the Olympian as soon as he was assured that Justine was okay. He hadn’t wanted Myla to be around for the sorting process of who was infected and who was cleared. He had seen that a few times already, and it was never easy to watch.

Myla fought him the whole car ride back to the Olympian. Stating that she wanted to help and that she could help. But Vasiliy had only grown mad and lashed out at her like he did when they were kids. It was his job as a big brother to protect her, and if this was how those munchers were going to retaliate, then it wasn’t safe to take Myla out with him at all.

They were still arguing as the elevator arrived at the top floor, causing plenty of commotion.

“What’s going on?” the professor asked.

“There was an attack at the office,” Vasiliy said.

“What sort of attack?” the professor asked, pressing further trying to break up the two bickering children.

“Someone strapped some C4 to a couple munchers, went off right in the middle of everything. Myla’s not coming back with me.”

“Like hell I am!”

“Look, I’ve got to go get the Doc and get him to check out Justine, I’m sorry kid, but I’ll feel better if you’re here.”

“That’s bullshit, I’m safer than you - “

“ - Your little silver stunt isn’t anything to be proud of, so don’t go around taking chances. I saw you help those people out, they could’ve been infected, but you didn’t even bother to check! I can’t keep an eye on you the whole time,” Vasiliy said.

“An eye on me? What am I? A kid?”

Myla knew Quinlan had to be in the other room listening to this. She felt embarrassed and shorted like she was worthless to Vasiliy and the Lumen. This plague was everyone’s problem, and everyone needed to pitch in but Vasiliy seemed to think this was a pick and choose bargain. All she wanted to do was belong somewhere.

Not wanting to argue anymore, Myla headed for the stairs to escape to the lower levels of the building. Vasiliy shouted at her, and she did her best to ignore his apologies and concern for her well being.

Myla settled in a small kitchenette on the next floor happy to find bits of pieces of food to eat while she brewed over her fight with Vasiliy. She knew he was wrong, that's what bothered her the most, she knew she could help those people. After everything that had happened she couldn't help but cry.

Myla hoped that the office had been cleaned out by now. She imagined that people had made it out okay, but she had witnessed that attack first hand, and it had been a well planned one. There were going to be few to walk out of that building uninfected.

Myla opened a box of saltine crackers and searched for something to wash them down with. There wasn’t anything but empty jugs of water, she felt around in the back of the shelves hoping to find one that was full. But instead, she felt a small metallic... flask.

Damn.

She pulled out the flask and opened it to find that it was filled with some old fucking whiskey. Probably nipped by someone who worked here from one of the more wealthy inhabitants. Someone probably paid a lot of money for this once, so she didn’t think it was right to let it go to waste.

Myla poured herself a glass to try and rid some of the stainless steel flavors it had acquired while being trapped in the flask. She gave it a taste and was surprised it wasn’t completely repulsive. While she continued to calm down she tried to come up with some sort of argument to convince Vasiliy to involve her somehow, somehow Vasiliy had to know she wasn’t so fragile.

Though Myla’s heart nearly stopped when she became settled enough to notice something was wrong.

That slither of a worm, buried somewhere deep in her forearm. Myla had checked herself... she hadn’t had any cuts. But the falling debris, she had just assumed it was the ceiling tile but could she have felt a worm?

She looked down to watch the unnatural shape take form in her arm and slither around before disappearing again.

Now... she didn’t feel as confident as she did before.

A mixture of fear and anger caused her to throw the glass of whiskey into the small sink. It shattered into several pieces, the liquid disappearing with it. She fumed, with her face red, tears against her cheeks as she thought about the worm. She could feel it moving inside her, in a fit of panic she grabbed a shard of glass and made an incision in the general area she could feel movement.

“Motherfucker,” she said through her teeth.

She removed the glass and then clasped her hand over the wound, then it started to bleed, a lot.

She reached for the flask and tossed back whatever was left to ease the pain before removing her hand.

 

 _“It’s just a little_ blood, _” she told herself._

 

She saw a small glimpse of its head and quickly tried to pull it from her arm. It came freely, almost willingly as she dropped it into the sink, and then she saw another... and another, and then she began to panic.

Quinlan had appeared in the kitchen from the stairwell, the latch on the door made her look up, and together they shared a look of shock.

“No, no! I don’t want your help,” she said trying to shield her face.

“I smelled the blood, I didn’t think you had been injured,” he said walking towards her.“Yeah well, I kinda panicked,” she said..

“You shouldn’t have done this,” he said as he realized this wound was self-inflicted.

“Don’t get all wide-eyed at me!” she said pulling another worm from her forearm. “I didn’t get stung, I wasn't hurt... I didn’t want them in there and well... last time there was a wound you know, a way for them to get out.”

To be fair, _he was right,_ this was stupid. Now there seemed to be more blood... and she had even started to feel light headed.

“Should you choose to not let me heal your wound you will need to stitch it,” he told her.

“But they’re inside me,” Myla whispered.

“Let me help you,” Quinlan said, “I wouldn’t close the wound if it would cause you harm.”

"It causes me harm." Myla snapped.

Myla was silent now, she felt ridiculous for crying. She let him stand there, she knew he could have already disappeared if he had wanted to. “If you’d rather I get the professor...”

“No, don't,” she said. “It’s okay, please... please help me,” she asked setting her pride aside.

Quinlan stepped forward and looked into her eyes, almost as if to give an apology.

“I’m sorry for yelling.” she quipped.

Quinlan took her arm in his, and his eyes quickly read disappointment. This wound was deeper than it needed to be.

“You’ve severed a vein. A small one, but enough to account for all this blood.”

“I just wanted to make a small cut, give them room to get out.”

“I know, I’ll go get the UV light we’ll check for more worms and see what we can do to stop the bleeding.”

Myla reached for a nearby towel, and Quinlan was gone and back before the blood had even started to soak through the cotton.

She heard the distinct click of the light as he brought it to her skin. She was surprised to see only a few worms, they were slow moving and sluggish.

“How were you infected?” Quinlan asked.

“I - I don’t know. My eyes, my nose maybe.”

“So there were only a few?” he asked.

“Those bodies splattered all over the place, I didn’t see how many fell on my head.”

“It couldn’t have been many. You’ve been infected for over an hour now and there aren’t many left. If they had multiplied properly you'd be teeming with worms. I'd imagine you are in no real danger, but I understand the need to remove a foreign object from one's self.” Quinlan said as he picked a few more worms from her wound.

“More of your war stories?” Myla asked.

“I’ve experienced many injuries, yes. But I was referring to the worms.”

“But you don’t have any,” she said.

“No, but I’ve been stung,” he said. “The feeling is... very uncomfortable.” 

“To say the least,” she said.

Quinlan ran the light up and down her arm, he passed over her neck and down the other arm before feeling comfortable about what to do next.

“I'm afraid, the best course of action is to heal it quickly. Stitching it will take longer to heal, and your sword will tear any stitches by its weight, you won’t be able to fight.”

She needed to be able to fight if she planned on going back out with Vasiliy.

“You think it’s okay?” she asked.

“I’ll keep an eye on you, but yes I feel confident you’ll do just fine.”

“Okay, just be quick about it,” she said as she frowned. He could already feel her tensing beneath his grasp.

His stinger ejected from between his lips just enough so that he could prick his finger. He let his white drip into her torn flesh as he carefully pinched together the separated pieces of skin. After a few minutes, the wound was closed, and he looked back at her. Her teeth were gritted in pain.

“It’ll be over in a moment,” he said taking both her trembling hands.

The smell of her blood reminded him of the taste of her blood - the taste of her in general, bringing him back to their night together. How this girl had appealed to his human emotions he did not know.

But he found himself wondering why those stars had a say in some sort of fate, or why he should shelter this human side of him now that the master was dead. If he chose to live here and now, to let her close - they could be happy.

At least he imagined they could. That she could learn to love him. Perhaps she already did.

He had regretted what he said the other night. The moment he had said it.

So he waited with her until the pain subsided. Her breathing became regular but he still did not remove himself. Luckily so,  effortlessly fell into his arms, weakened from the pain.

“Myla,” he spoke softly.

But there was no response, she had fainted. He noted the rather pale sheen across her face but knew she would wake in a matter of hours after the white had some more time to heal her.

Quinlan carried the girl upstairs and placed her in her bed before taking in a deep breath and letting out a relatively sad sigh. He missed her. He wished the were on the roof at this very moment practicing. He could even stand to go back to that brown building and relive that night with her. 

He knew once she woke up he would have to apologize for the things he had said to her. It hadn't been fair to her, but he hadn't expected for her to call him a liar. She was too intuitive. She knew him better than anyone had in the last hundred years and he had only known her a short while. He had been lucky to have shared intimacy with her, so lucky to call her a friend.

_Perhaps...  It wasn't too late._

 

* * *

 

Myla was making countless copies of the Lumen in an all-white room. The pages were pouring out of the feeder, billowing to the floor. She watched deadpan as each page came out of the feeder. It seemed to say the same thing over and over again... just in a different language.

 _L'uomo è un parassita, corpi celesti ci fanno combattere._  
_Parasitus hominem caelestia corpora dimicare._  
_Մարդը պարազիտ է, երկնային մարմինները մեզ պայքարում են_  
_人是寄生蟲，天上的身體讓我們戰鬥_  
_انسان ایک پرجیوی ہے، آسمانی_  
_اداروں ہمیں لڑائی دیتا ہے_  
_Człowiek jest pasożytem, ciało niebieskie zmusza nas do walki._  
_Man is a parasite, Heavenly bodies make us fight._

She would see the transcription over and over until the pages turned sinister. The eyes she’d encountered on each page were now printing. Each one different from the last, scrolling and scrolling, until the eyelid, began to fall... and then close. She watched the closed eye, printing over and over again until finally it until it opened. Staring back at her.

The sudden sight had caused her to wake from her dream.

Those stupid fucking eyes.

She glanced at the clock, it was 4:00 AM, that surprised her. She felt like she’d only been asleep for a short while. But her sheets were soaked with sweat. She hadn’t had a night this bad for years. She imagined this was the punishment for tossing aside sobriety.

She wondered if her weakness started at an early age when her dad would tell her to stop twirling about the living room and tell her to go study. Then came the bad report cards, the disappointment, the rebellion... then the Green Fairy. At least when she worked there she never had to amount to anything. It was harder to fail when you were already at the bottom.

Well, until you end up killing a guy, even she had managed to fuck up rock bottom.

She sighed as she got up to remove the sheets and pulled a clean set from the closet. She stretched the fitted sheet over the bed before she realized she would need a shower before she crawled in that bed.

She stripped off her clothes and tossed them into a hamper near the closet. From the linen closet, she to a towel and wrapped it tightly around her body before she turned on the heated bathroom tiles and started the shower. The hot steam immediately eased her headache as she brushed her teeth. Feeling better now, she decided the moment of weakness was nothing more than that.

With Quinlan, and the alcohol, it was nothing more than a weak moment - she still could go up from here. She’d been in worse places before. As she felt sorry for herself she doodled criss-cross patterns on the mirror. She could do this, she didn’t need to drink anymore, she was stronger than that.

Myla wiped away the condensation with a hand towel in an attempt at some sort of mental coercion. But her heart nearly stopped when she saw Quinlan had appeared behind her.

“Good god, you have got to stop doing that!” Myla said.

“My apologies,” Quinlan said.

Myla turned away from the mirror to face Quinlan. His neck was red he had recently fed.

“What are you doing here?” Myla asked, gesturing to the steaming bathroom into which he had invited himself. “How long have you been standing there?”

Quinlan said nothing for a moment. Taking in the silence, her words, her pretty eyes...

“I heard you get up, I thought it was a rather odd hour and came to check on you.”

“Oh so now it’s your job to check on me?” she asked.

“The white can be... difficult for some to handle.”

“Well, you can leave. I feel fine,” she said as she wrapped her arms around the top of her towel as if to guard herself. There was silence between them for a moment, and Quinlan took a couple steps towards the door which actually brought him closer to her.

He paused in his stride to speak, “I seem to find myself with a life I didn’t think I would have.”

“Shouldn’t you be glad you’re alive?” she asked him.

“I’m not sure... I suppose I don’t know what to feel. Except that I’m sorry for what I said.” Quinlan spoke. “I - suppose I assumed insulting you was the easiest way to distance us. You were right, I was lying.”

“You really have to work on your social abilities,” she said back.

“One thing we’ve both agreed that I am terrible at,” he said solemnly.

“You still didn’t answer my question.”

Quinlan quickly closed the distance between them making Myla’s cheeks blush and her grip tightened on her towel.

“I seem to find myself with some time I didn’t account for and I... thought of you.”

_“Oh...”_

Myla nearly swooned as he towered over her. Instead, she tried to focus on a scowl. “Just because we’ve had sex doesn’t mean you can just come in here when I’m not dressed or think that I’ll forgive you, just like that!”

“I’m not sure what I know anymore.” Quinlan took Myla’s face in his hands “The other night was an attempt to protect myself from losing someone I could come to care about. I thought if we distanced ourselves I could avoid any pain but it’s come to my attention I will feel that pain regardless. When I heard what had happened... I thought about you and your well being."

Myla was quickly becoming flustered by his confession. This wasn’t good, this wasn’t part of the plan.

“I stare up at those stars and feel this crushing sense of uncertainty and I find myself...” Quinlan paused. “I find myself... wishing I didn’t have to look at them alone.”

Maybe it was the steam or Quinlan’s unusually high temperature, but Myla melted against him. She hadn’t wanted to. She had wanted to hate him, even yell at him. But her lips made no sounds, only parted as his thumb ran across her bottom lip.

“That still doesn’t mean you can come into someone's bathroom, or stare at them like that when they’re naked!” Myla hit her fists against his chest. But she didn’t try very hard to resist. Quinlan still hadn’t moved an inch from her. In fact, he pressed forward while she spoke, and Myla took a step back. “You can’t treat someone like that and just expect everything to -”

Quinlan placed a kiss on her lips. One she gave into.

Then she pushed him off her.

“And you can’t just kiss someone when they’re in the middle of explaining-”

He kissed her again. After all, she knew social lessons were lost on him. He didn’t really care one way or the other. He knew what he wanted. If Myla asked him to leave, he would go, but when her mouth opened wide against his and her hands met his face, and Quinlan’s hands found their way around her waist where they quickly gripped her tightly.

Then they lost themselves again. Giving into what felt good in that moment. Her hands caressed the back of his head and neck while he held her body against his own, not ready to let a chance like this go.

“What’s gotten into you?” she asked finally pulling away.

“I don’t want to give this up. I don’t want to push you away . _..that is if you’ll still have me?”_

Myla nodded, smiled and went back for another kiss. Unlike before neither of them felt rushed like they had to try and fit in every physical part of their relationship in one night. Somehow they were both more relaxed, willing to take their time with one another. The steam in the room and Quinlan’s warmth were already making her sweat - she did her best to remove his shirt while his hands were reluctant to pull away from her skin. Even Myla enjoyed the role reversal, it made her weak in the knees knowing he was the one pursuing her.

When she pulled away and looked him in the eyes she saw that primal creature he was talking about so often. He may have recently fed, but she was his prey, and now she was caught.

His lips found their way to her neck, as her hands palmed his muscular chest. She mustered enough strength to slip out of his grasp before pulling him towards the shower door. Myla playfully dropped her towel slipped inside disappearing behind the fogged glass. But in an instant Quinlan was already behind her, she smiled as the water ran down her chest and something else was now poking into her lower back.

“You shouldn’t run from me,” Quinlan told her as he gently touched his teeth to her shoulder. Myla moaned as his hands reached around her and held each of her breasts in his hands. Myla’s hand found it’s way to his erect lower half, after giving him a gentle squeeze she could feel his stinger rattling in his chest. His hand dipped between her legs and both her hands flew forward to brace herself against the shower wall. Every ministration of his fingers made her coo and moan - so much so she had to remind herself to be quiet.

“Quin - Quinlan!” she gasped.

The sound of his name only made him work harder on her sensitive nerve endings. She was breathless and pressed against him, an absolutely beautiful creature. She spun around facing him, no longer able to keep her lips from his own. Her eager kisses only reminding him of how much she wanted him. That feeling of being wanted... _it could crush him._

Something humans were so lucky to feel.

He lifted her body, her legs instinctively wrapped around him and he wasted no time in sliding himself inside her. In just three deep thrusts she was in ecstasy all around him. Her body was only supported by him, and her grip on the back of his neck. When she came back to him through a few shallow thrusts he allowed himself to take his time. He tightened his grip on her ass as he rolled his hips against her. Each slow thrust was nearly crippling to them both, small kisses covered one another’s mouth, one hand slipped to her breast while her hand softly trailed down the front of his neck. The trick of her fingers had nearly brought him to the edge, his stinger releasing itself, unable to be bitten back as he got closer to his own release.

He pressed the side of his face to hers has his chest rattled in pleasure. With a firm grip to hold her against him, his animal instincts drove him to puncture the side of her neck. She quickly came again in his arms, her pleasure and arousal could easily be tasted through her blood flow. It was that taste and the grip of her tightening against him that caused him to crush several shower tiles under his fist as he tried to control the waves of his own release. 

Once both their heart rates slowed to a normal pace he ejected his stinger from her neck. A small trickle of blood ran through a stream of a water before disappearing down the drain. Quinlan carefully set her down away from the bits of ceramic and pulled her close once again to kiss the small mark he’d left on her neck.

“I’m sorry If that hurt you,” he said.

“No, I - I didn’t mind... it - it felt good,” she admitted. “How do you feel?"

“From your blood or from what we just did?” he asked running his thumb down the side of her face.

“Both, I suppose.”

“If I had to put it into words… I’d say I’m completely enraptured.”

Myla closed her eyes as he kissed her forehead. She was completely stunned by this man, and their most recent tryst left her weak in the knees. She struggled to get onto her tip-toes to reach his lips for another kiss.

 


	15. Contentment

Myla was wrapped amongst a clean sheet. Her breathing was calm, almost like a song to him as he watched her sleep. It had only been hours since they had showered together. The sun was just beginning to shine, the light through the curtains was just enough to wake her. When she looked up at him, she looked as though she had no regrets from their time spent together last night.

“You didn’t sleep?’’ she asked as she began to stretch like a cat.

“Not tonight,” he said.

“Too bad.” she cooed. “I dreamt nice things.”

“It wasn’t all a dream.”

“No, not all of it was a dream,” she said as she stretched her neck to kiss him.

They stayed like that for a moment content in one another’s arms. Quinlan broke apart their embrace to get dressed.

Myla’s fingers found they new scar that adorned her arm, just to the left of the stinger scar she had acquired in the tunnels. Her fingers instinctively traced the mark on her chest. She remembered how Quinlan had been there each time to help her. He saw her palming her scar while deep in thought.

“How do you feel?” he asked her.

“Like I could lift a house,” she said.

Quinlan gave her a small smile.

“Haven’t been at my best the last few days.”

“I should have mentioned that the white can take some adjusting to, it can alter your body’s metabolic system. It might account for any weakness or abnormal strength over the last few days.” Quinlan said. Myla was only half listening as she watched him put on his shirt.

“That explains a few things,” she said.

“I’ll keep an eye on you. Let me know if you don’t feel well, though if you can manage it we should meet tonight on the roof.”

“Oh?”

“Dusk, bring your sword,” he said. “You’ve been out of practice for a few days, we should remedy that.”

“Oh,” she sighed, “where are you going?" she asked.

“The professor and I have some things to attend to.”

“Could I tag along?” she asked.

“I think the professor was content to keep you here to look after things... something about leaving the Lumen alone like last time.”

“He’s still holding that one over your head?” she said with a smirk.

“I imagine it will be a while before I earn the man’s trust,” Quinlan said. “We will be back soon.”

Quinlan placed a quick kiss on her head, she returned the gesture with a smile.

* * *

 

Myla was alone for the first time in weeks. She paced through the halls looking for something to do. She settled on cataloging some of her new copies. But looking at those eyes again gave her the creeps. She thumbed through the copied pages, recognizing an image that seemed almost comical. It reminded her of Nosferatu, watching the old silent film in high school had given her a headache. She saw the professor's notes scribbled in the corner indicating the use of light to harm the Strigoi.

The next page was the short paragraph dedicated to the sun hunters. The page Quinlan had been rather disappointed with. The following page depicted the wolf types, those with hair, those without... mongrels, and the vrykolakas. Then she reached a page the professor had not yet translated. There was a larger image of a rising sun, and it had carelessly been categorized as another sunlight reference.

But Myla recognized it. She’d even admired it this morning before Quinlan had put back on his shirt. This rising sun was the mark of the Sun Hunters... the very same brand Quinlan held on his left shoulder. This page and the several after it depicted pale skinned warriors who were fearless. They were experts in combat, trained in an arsenal of weaponry.

 _“Sol Guerrero_ , _”_ she muttered. “I think that means... fighter - no, warrior.”

Myla flipped back to the original page the professor had marked sun hunters. The symbol of the sun they had so easily dismissed... now didn’t look quite right.

She at the room down the hall. The UV lights were shining into the hall... the professor had locked the Lumen away from her as well, but if she could just see the original page she could see what was missing. The copier had caused the image to lose some detail. But if she could guess it was meant to be a coin. It reminded her of the coins her Aunt Georgie would keep. She had called them milk coins. Myla could remember the Fleur de Lis, or the cross that could be found on the backside of the coin... surrounded by a halo of laurel leaves.

The suns rays... _weren’t rays,_ it was a ring of leaves, and the circle was a coin.

She compared the creatures once more. The sun hunters were depicted as muscular, shown in the daylight, and with stingers, but the others looked more like slaves at the feet of the ancients. Their skin was pale and sunken, the eyes were dark, and were only shown underneath a crescent moon.

Myla set aside the sun hunter chapters for Quinlan to see. She knew he would be pleased to see their records had exceeded more than a paragraph. She thumbed through the pages, as those sinister eyes flickered up at her once more. She shut the manila envelope not wanting to look at them anymore then she had to.

When Quinlan and the professor returned Myla was already on the roof. The sun was setting, and she meant to keep her date with Quinlan.

But when he arrived, he seemed frustrated. He chose to remain silent. Looking at Myla only for a moment before telling her to pick up her sword. Then he came at her, she barely had time to block before he was on top of her.

“Quicker,” he said.

Quinlan took three steps backward before he rushed her again. This time she blocked and spun away from him. But he was too fast he was able to grab her arm and spin her. Before she knew where her feet had gone she was pressed against the rooftop door. Pressed against him like this would normally have made her blush, instead, she felt pain from his grip on her elbow.

“Again,” he said taking another three steps back.

“You’re too fast,” she said. “I can’t.”

“Unacceptable. You will try again,” he commanded.

“Then step back, give me more space.”

Quinlan growled before he rushed her again, she put up her sword and attempted to block but she was already caught and pinned against the door once more, this time face first.

“Do you think you can ask for more space in a fight?” he growled into her ear. “Do you think it will be easy?”

Myla whimpered against the door, his hands didn’t let her move an inch.

“A stinger can reach up to six feet, and if I had wanted to drink you, you’d be drained by now, do you understand? You may not be able to be infected, but they still can drink you - and all it takes is just enough blood to push you past the point of no return.”

“Quinlan you’re hurting me!” she struggled to say.

Quinlan let her go and picked up her sword before handing it back to her.

“Again,” he said.

She could see in his eyes he wasn’t kidding. He wasn’t going to make this easy on her.

So she used the door to her advantage. Spinning around it as quickly as she could giving her just an extra half a second to put her sword between them. Then she saw him hesitate... but only for a moment. He gave one flick to her wrist she dropped her sword and he was upon her once more.

“What are you going to do Myla?” he asked. He closed in on her once more, “How will you survive this?”

She noted his hand around her throat, and the other clamped onto her elbow.

“What’s - what is all this?” she asked.

“You won’t learn if I don’t push you,” he said. “Now how do you get out?”

With her free hand, she reached over his arm dropping her elbow against his. He gave in, though they both knew he was stronger than that. She used her momentum to slip his grasp, he was holding her hard enough the brick scraped her arm. She was able to reach her sword and turn away so the door was no longer to her back.

“Better. But you’re still not thinking quick enough.”

“I managed to escape you,” she said.

“Escape doesn’t always mean your life is safe.”

Myla huffed and furrowed her brow. She figured this meant she wasn’t supposed to play it safe anymore. This was Quinlan after all... he was a gladiator, he could take a little fight.

Myla kept her feet light, moving whenever she got the sense he was about to try something. Then she got a little cocky. She let him make the first move, surrendering the space she had claimed. She raised her sword, but her attack was deflected, Quinlan easily disarmed her once more.

She stood there, only feet stood between them. Myla was breathing heavily.

She dove for her sword, Quinlan was already reaching for her, his hand hooked around her ankle and pulled her towards him. Her stomach scraped against the gravel. But atleast she did have her sword.

She rolled over, and when he bent down, her fist met the base of his neck, and when he stood up, she swung her sword.

Quinlan staggered back for a moment. Myla looked up at him from the ground, confused at what she saw. Then she realized she had cut him.

She stood as quickly as she could, and found Quinlan’s hand across his abdomen. She had made a rather large incision across his midsection.

“Quinlan! I’m so sorry!” Myla said as she rushed to put her hands on the wound. “Shit, this is deep, and it was with silver, are you okay?” she asked.

“That was... _much better.”_ he managed to say in a hoarse voice.

“This... this was an accident!” she said, “I never expected you to actually let me hurt you.”

“I had to push you, to see what you can really do, and this is... better than expected.”

“Oh hell, Quinlan are you serious?” Myla tilted her head towards the door. “Downstairs. Now.”

“I’ll heal,” he said.

“Yeah, yeah - do it anyway,” Myla commanded.

Quinlan followed her down the stairs and into the bedroom they now seemed content to share. Quinlan sat on the edge of the bed while he let Myla removed his vest and shirt. She was looking at him just like she had done this morning, with a caring gaze, but now concern was written across her forehead.

“It will heal, maybe in as little as a few hours,” Quinlan said.

Myla looked up at him. Still angry.

“How could you do that? I don’t know what I’m doing, I want to get better but-”

“But it was your instincts that saved you,” he said. “You’re a better fighter when you don’t know what to expect.”

“So what? What’s all this fighting got to do with anything?” Myla asked. “He’s dead isn’t he.”

Quinlan was silent. She saw that stern look she had seen earlier. The pursed lips... the furrowed brow.

 _“Isn't... he?”_ she asked more quietly now.

“No.” Quinlan said. “Apparently not.”

Myla sighed. She felt frustrated, sure - but right now she just focused on Quinlan. The wound no longer bled, but it was deep enough that if he went about his regular night he could make it worse before it would heal.

“The professor had some suspicions... And I took him to see the Ancients. What we learned was... disappointing.”

“I - I’m sorry Quinlan.”

“I’m sorry if I was too hard on you,” he said gesturing to her arm which had now begun to bruise.

“No, you were right to be,” Myla said. “It would have been nice to understand why.”

“We should try again when I’m healed. The professor is looking for a new way to defeat the master, and until he finds one... we should keep practicing.”

Myla looked up at him, the concern now written upon his own face. And Myla smiled at him. _His concern showed her he cared._

“Why don’t you lie down,” Myla said. “I’ll clean these clothes. If you sleep, you will heal faster.”

Quinlan nodded as he sat back against the pillows, Myla stripped off her own clothes and tossed them in a pile before she grabbed a dress from the armoire. It wasn’t hers, but it was soft and white and it would be nice to do laundry in. She turned back to find Quinlan looking at her.

“Come on, off with them,” she said.

Quinlan looked down and began to remove his pants. Myla pulled them the rest of the way from his feet and tossed everything into a basket.

* * *

 

Myla asked the professor if she could wash anything. He gave her his sweater and a long sleeve shirt. She put everything into one load, she felt relieved knowing she needed to get this done soon anyway. She had only put on this dress because she didn’t have anything else to wear.

Myla removed Quinlan’s belt and checked the pockets before dropping them into the washer. In her hand, she held a few bullets and a small hand carved pendant.

It was old, worn from Quinlan keeping it in his pocket. But she could tell it was special. She clutched it in her hand as she walked back to her room finding Quinlan asleep. She quietly put the pendant down at his side before checking on the professor once more.

When she finished drying their clothing, Myla returned the professor his things first. For the last hour, they had sat deciphering some of the Lumen in an attempt to find a way to more permanently defeat the master. But they had both grown tired, Myla had left the professor with some coffee and excused herself.

She did, however, note the Professor seemed to be aware of the other laundry items in the basket. Myla knew the professor had talked to Quinlan about the nature of their relationship... but she didn’t know much of how the old man really felt. As far as she knew - the Professor had only wanted him to be cautious. Perhaps for good reason now that they knew the Master wasn't dead. 

Quinlan was awake when she entered the room.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

“Fine,” he said.

Myla noted the pendant was missing from the table as she set his clothes on the chair next to the bed.

“Can I see it?” she asked.

Quinlan lifted the sheet away from his body, exposing a very dark scab. At least it had closed itself, he was right, in a few hours, it would be a scar.

She frowned anyway, still uncomfortable with the fact she had hurt him at all.

“I assure you, I am fine.”

“I- wanted you to know I’m glad you pushed me. I didn’t like hurting you, but if we’re going to win this thing...”

_We, maybe that was the wrong word._

“It takes away all that time,” he said. "The...  _other life."_

“I know,” she said.

“You don’t have to be a part of this if you don’t want to.”

“Of course I want this,” she said, stopping him from what he was about to say next. “I’m in danger, you’re in danger... that’s obvious. I’ll train as hard as you want me to, and in the end...”

_The end._

“...whatever that may be, we will have had _some_ time together. Preferably all good times, but if what you say is true... that there really is no end to him without an end to you - then so be it. We will kill him. And I will be sad when you’re gone.”

“I don’t wish this on you-”

“It’s already done.” she interrupted. “I’ve made up my mind, so I’m going to crawl in that bed next to you and fall asleep, okay?”

Quinlan said nothing, only nodded.

Myla curled in against him, under the thin sheet she was warm against his figure. “We translated some new pages on the sun hunters I think you might like. In the morning the professor and I are going to look at some of those Egyptian chapters.”

Quinlan still said nothing. He was perplexed by this girl, and yet so grateful she wasn’t afraid to stay by his side. This road to death had been a long an lonely one, but now, it was nice just to have someone... even if it was only for a little while.

“What are you thinking?” she asked innocently.

“That you are a strange creature.”

She looked up at him finding his cold eyes to be searching for hers. She sat up, meeting him in a sitting position before she softly kissed him. Because she was concerned for his wound, and she herself was beginning to feel sore from their ordeal on the roof she made sure they only kissed.

She was soon fast asleep beside him, Quinlan looked at his hand once more, finding the pendant there. The carving of Tasa had nearly been worn away by his touch. And he realized how long he had denied feeling anything. But the moment the Ancients spoke of the red worm... Quinlan had thought of Myla and the time they had promised one another, he felt the promise of finally living a human life disappear once more. 

Quinlan watched Myla sleep, determined not to waste a moment he had with her. She was beautiful, though Quinlan had seen beauty in its many forms, Quinlan had even enjoyed bedding a large number of beautiful women... but Myla had a certain kindness he found rare amongst humans. When she doted on him with worry or even a simple kiss she managed to stand out from all the rest. Tasa had been able to look at him without disgust, and even Louisa did when he allowed her to make him look the way she preferred.

Then there was this dress... it was so simple, but the moment she had put it on she became something other than the girl he was teaching to use a sword. She wasn’t fighting Strigoi anymore, and he wasn’t either. They were just together. She looked just as she had in his one and only dream - so he watched her sleep. He was content for the time being hoping to absorb every moment he could with the girl before his destiny caught up with him.


	16. Trust

The sun would rise in less than an hour. Bringing back a familiar feeling Quinlan had experienced with Myla in that brownstone. It had been obvious to him she had stayed awake that night too... both of them wanting the moment to last.

He hadn’t needed to sleep next to her. He should have left to hunt during the hours of the night. But part of him didn’t want to.

His hand made it’s way up her soft thigh, higher... and higher until he realized she wasn’t wearing anything else. His stinger began to rattle and she seemed to wake at the sound.

“Hey you,” she muttered sleepily.

Quinlan said nothing as he hiked her dress higher. He quickly noticed the scratches she’d obtained from their duel. With his own wound now healed, he leaned down to press his lips to her abdomen. Her hands found their way to his head, running over his ears, across his scalp, and down his neck. 

The way she laid, the way she slept... it reminded him of the dream he had when he beheaded the Master.

He kissed her scratches. Her bruises, and nearly anywhere he could reach. Myla was fully awake now, he could tell from the small fits of laughter she would emit when he kissed particularly sensitive parts of her.

“It tickles,” she whispered.

But Quinlan continued, determined to show her that he could be gentle with her too.

Myla's eyes were still closed, but flew open the moment she realized Quinlan’s lips had ventured further south. Her stomach felt warm... and her breathing once rhythmic and deep was now quick and shallow.

She thought she was going to say something clever, but she was only able to elicit a gasp as his hands slowly slid back between her thighs, pushing them apart. Her hands instinctively pressed on the back of his head, lifting her hips as she did so. His tongue made it’s way across her heat, and she felt her body arch uncontrollably. 

“Quinlan...” she muttered.

She relaxed back into the pillow as he pushed her thigh flush with the bed. He was opening her, and she gave herself freely to him.

Then she felt it. His tongue disappeared, his hand pressed to the top of her mound, holding her down as he pleased her collection of nerves all at the same time. Then he... _was penetrating her._ And in a way she had thought of at least once... but always out of curiosity, never expecting him to... _to... use it._

She felt filled instantly. She cried out, shocked at the feeling, unable to stifle any sort of volume as she succumbed to the feeling of his stinger within her. She felt immense pleasure build as he teased her exterior with his hand and moved within her slowly. She soon realized that the movement wasn’t from friction... but in fact, _his stinger feeding on her._

The sound his chest made when taking in blood was a familiar one, and she could hear it now... it was almost in sync with her heartbeat. Then almost as quickly as he'd entered her, she felt him pull out from her, knowing she could trust him not to take too much blood. Trusting him enough to let him do something so... _so... pleasing._

He kissed his way up her body, and Myla was a moaning mess, each piece of her body falling apart as he kissed it. She wanted to show him the same kindness... to please him as he had done to her. But there was not enough time to communicate her wishes, he had already settled his lower half between her thighs. He had chosen to enter her slowly, knowing the small incision site his stinger had made could be tender - this wasn’t about hurting her... it was about pleasing her.

She moaned his name again once he was sunk deep inside her. Her legs went to wrap around him instinctively, and he smiled at her request for, _'‘more.”_

He relented by pulling out of her and then sinking back into her... still at a painfully slow pace. Her mewling was obviously one of frustration and pleasure as he rocked against her. Everything she felt was like sensual fire, amplified over and over again every slow move he made. Nearly about to break... she muttered _‘faster.”_

Then his pace became faster, but only by some. He pressed into her quickly enough that an audible clap from their bodies began to surround them. Then Myla became lost, muttering his name over and over again. His hands roaming over her body, his hands stopping only to hold her in just the right position to make her come.

Every piece of her became unraveled, her eyes shut, her hands clutched his shoulders, her back arched against him. _“Oh god! Quinlan!”_ she muttered breathlessly as she clamped down around him. 

When she caught her breath and mentally returned to the mattress, Quinlan looked down at her, slowly pulling away the dress that still covered her. The sun was up now, and even with the curtains drawn enough light filtered through to illuminate the beautiful features of her body.

Staying sheathed within her, Quinlan picked her up and rolled over, sitting her on top of him just like the night they first spent together.

“I wish to see you this way,” he said softly.

Myla nodded her head, placing her hands on his chest before she began to rock forward. Every nerve ending of hers was coming down from her orgasm, but quickly becoming stimulated once more as she rocked against him. The most alluring moment between them was their eye contact. It was subtle - one usually had their eyes closed while the other did not, but when their eyes did meet... nothing but passion was found between the two glances.

Quinlan grasped at her lower half, kneading into her backside... he was close and knew Myla wasn’t far off either. How they came to feel melted together he wasn’t sure. It might have been the sight of the sweat on her shoulder - knowing he'd put it there. Or the way he was biting her bottom lip to keep from moaning. But whatever it was he grasped at the feeling and lifted his hips, driving himself into her opening. Her nails dug into his chest, and she shut her eyes both of them working to meet each other in the center of their connection. Quinlan met his end at the end in the middle of her second orgasm. He even made an audible noise that Myla had recognized amidst her training. Through his teeth he allowed a small gasp to escape, as he shut his tightly and furrowed his brow, Myla nearly lost herself all over again.

Everything felt between them felt so... powerful.

Myla removed herself from their juncture, feeling empty as soon as he left her.

She left to the bathroom to clean herself up from their ordeal. Quinlan laid there for a moment, not unable to move, but knowing he wished not to. He had forgotten what companionship felt like... his human side had craved this for such a long time, and now he had it and all he wanted to do was follow her into the shower to taste her again. He could wrestle with her all morning to give her release after release... knowing she would say his name over and over again.

When she returned, her hair was wet, and a glossy sheen had spread across her figure. He was ready to take her all over again.

“Should we?” she asked.

Quinlan only nodded his head.

Myla began to dress, putting on the freshly laundered clothes from last night. Quinlan dressed quietly on the other side of the bed.

Once they were both dressed, Myla met him at the foot of the bed to place a small kiss on his lips. She smirked at him before leaving the room to prepare breakfast for her and the Professor.

* * *

 

The rest of the day was interesting. The professor has started off by giving him a look of disdain, Quinlan didn’t think they had been audible enough to make their coupling known to him, but he soon realized that the professor’s sweater smelled of the same detergent - the laundry must have tipped him off.

That... and the fact that he caught them coming out of the same room together.

Neither of them had acknowledged what the other may or may not know. And the three of them went about deciphering the Lumen together just as silently as they had done before.

That is until Myla demanded the professor give her the book.

“I’ll go with you, but I’m not letting this book out of my sight,” Setrakian said.

“Fine,” Myla said. “Let’s go, come on!”

The two of them made their way up the stairs.

Quinlan followed but found the sun-beaten roof undesirable once he reached the top of the stairs.

“See, I knew it was a coin!” Myla said.

“So it’s not a sun. Great, a silver coin doesn’t help us kill the master.”

“Wait... wait... what’s this?” Myla asked.

The professor glanced at the following page. The Egyptian hieroglyphs had already been translated, but now the sun showed new glyphs that had been hidden before.

“It really does have its secrets, doesn’t it professor?” Myla said.

* * *

 

Vasiliy had returned that afternoon to take Myla to their parent's apartment. But their recent findings had stalled that trip once again.

“A box?” Vasiliy asked.

“Lead-lined... silver lined...” Abraham said as his eyes glossed over the page once more.

“How much silver?” Vasiliy asked.

“A lot more than we currently have,” Quinlan stated.

Myla and Quinlan were sitting close to one another. Not close enough to be touching, but close enough that it was only added evidence to his suspicions from this morning. Vasiliy hadn’t seemed to notice yet.

“So what, where do we go? We’ve only hit up every pawn shop in Brooklyn.”

“Not... all of them,” Abraham said. “A friend of mine. I use the term loosely - we would end up in bidding wars over silver...”

“His wallet allowed him to win many of the auctions we met at over the last decade... I’d imagine his store is filled with it.”

“Think he would give it to us?” Myla asked.

“Perhaps. That is if he is even alive. He was older... these last few years have not been kind to him, I imagine neither has this plague.”

“So... first thing in the morning?” Myla asked.

The professor nodded.

“I can obtain the container,” Quinlan said.

“The professor and I can go in the morning, to uh, Mr. Silver’s place..” Vasiliy said.

“I can go with you,” Myla said.

“No, you stay here,” Vasiliy said. The events of the other day were already in the forefront of his mind. The professor nodded his head in agreement.

“So you want me to just sit here?” Myla asked.

“Yeah and maybe not let this one convince you of taking the Lumen anywhere, yeah?” Vasiliy said.

Myla noted the glance that came from the professor. It was a suspicious one.

Myla crossed her arms, feeling dejected by her own brother.

“We talked about this remember? It’ll just be easier if the professor runs down and get it. We’ll even be back before dinner.”

Myla didn’t argue, she didn’t say anything. She just sat back on the couch.

“Professor, if we get going we should have plenty of time.”

Abraham nodded and left the room to gather his things and lock away the Lumen.

Myla excused herself, disappearing down the hallway. Leaving Quinlan and Vasiliy alone.

“She’s not incapable you know,” Quinlan said.

“What?” Vasiliy asked.

“She’s smart. She saved your life, she’s saved the professors life... you should utilize her abilities, we need all the help we can get.”

“I thought you worked alone Q?”

“It seems the closest I’ve ever been to killing the master was when I found you and the professor.”

“Is that supposed to be some sort of thank you?” Vasiliy asked.

“No, I only mean to point out that there is power in numbers. You should value her contribution.”

“Why don’t you keep your stinger out of other peoples business?” Vasiliy said before standing and making his way towards the elevator.

He was met with confusion when Myla was standing in front of the elevator door herself.

“You’re not coming kid.”

“I know,” Myla said. “Be safe.”

“You’re acting like you’re upset,” Vasiliy said.

“Oh, I am,” Myla said.

“Come on,” Vasiliy said, “We’ll be back in a couple hours and all have dinner together.”

“Sounds like something Dad would say to Mom.”

Vasiliy’s smile faded. Realizing he had heard those words from his father before. Always determined to get the work done, and leave the women at home.

“It’s - it’s not like that,” Vasiliy said.

“Whatever it is,” Myla said. “I’m not doing any good here. I’m not helping mom by waiting for you...”

“I’m keeping you alive by keeping you out of this,” Vasiliy whispered.

“You’re keeping me alive?” Myla asked. “How so?”

“I know you’re not strong enough for all this. I... I haven’t wanted to go to Mom’s because I’m afraid of what’s there.”

“You think I can’t handle what’s there?” Myla asked.

“We both know you can’t!” Vasiliy spat.

Myla crossed her arms again and turned away from him.

“You have no idea how strong I am,” Myla said. “You don’t know me at all.”

“I guess I don’t,” Vasiliy stated as he pressed the button to call the elevator.

The professor rounded the corner to meet Vasiliy. Myla turned away to leave them.

She heard the doors shut behind her knowing they were gone for the rest of the afternoon.

Quinlan, however, was waiting for her just around the corner.

“He only wants to protect you,” Quinlan said. “I have been in his place before.”

“Like the other night, on the roof?” Myla asked.

“Yes,” Quinlan said.

“Thanks,” she said. “For sticking up for me.”

“You are capable of handling yourself,” Quinlan said. “That’s why you will come with me.”

“Really?” Myla asked with a smile.

Quinlan nodded. Myla came towards him placing her hands on his chest.

“Thank you,” she said as she placed a kiss on his lips.

* * *

 _"Here in New_ York, we held our battle lines  
_against an enemy that continued to evolve._  
_but for how much longer, are we still seeking victory_  
_... or simply stalling defeat?"_

* * *

  
 "You think he's still alive?" Vasily asked,

"I don't much care. I'm only after his silver." Setrakian said. "It's on Sitwell. Near 86th street."

Vasiliy drove south as his mind started to wander. That comment had gotten under his skin. Over the years Vasiliy had tried very hard not to become his father. Even so much so that he dropped out of school. Myla had just pointed out none of that had helped.

Now his parents were stuck on his mind, and Sitwell wasn’t far from their apartment.

Myla would kill him for going without her, but...

Vasiliy turned the car left instead of right.

"What are you doing? We are going the wrong way." Setrakian stated. 

"...As long as we're in the area, there's something I've got to check on." Vasiliy said. "My parents have an apartment nearby."

"Your... parents are still alive?" The professor asked.

"That's what I want to find out."

 

**Brighton First Road, Brighton Beach, Brooklyn.**

 

The salty air immediately reminded him of his childhood. Growing up near Coney Island meant he often took his little sister out for ice cream. They would walk the boardwalk sometimes to take a break from their parents for a few hours. Come to think of it, those had always been Vasiliy's favorite memories. 

He exited the car, and the professor walked up next to him. The apartment building was the same. Boring outside... but a quiet street. Walking up the stairs to their apartment only brought up more memories and made him fearful of what he might find.

After seeing the blood on the walls outside his parents apartment, Vasiliy became angry.

"God dammit, I told them to leave." he whispered.

Vasiliy was so enveloped in his thoughts he missed the footsteps of the strigoi coming for them. It make a strike for Vasiliy, But the Professor put his sword through it's eye and into the wall.

"Mrs. Crovolas. The next door neighbor.” Vasiliy said startled. He shrugged his shoulders, “Never liked her anyway."

Fet immediately felt guilty for not bringing Myla. But the pawn shop was only a few streets away from their parents apartment. He told himself it was out of convenience... but if Vasiliy knew his father like he thought he did, he didn't want Myla to have to see them dead... or worse, turned.

This time he wasn't nearly as nervous knocking as he was a few months ago. The apartment itself was silent. His knock altered nothing behind the door. He could hear no movement. 

That could be good or bad.

The professor followed Vasiliy inside. Finding a well kept apartment. It was small, clearly inhabited by an elderly couple. 

Vasiliy still saw his father's drawings hung on the wall. Sketches of the city littered his desk. His mother's handmade rugs still littered the floor. This was home to him. But the last time he had been here, he was called a stranger. 

Vasiliy noted that his father had left up several sketches Vasiliy had done while in school. But next to it, Myla's photo was missing. Vasiliy passed by his old bedroom, it later became Myla's and now was nothing but a sewing room.

The sight of their bedroom did come as a shock to Vasiliy. He was hoping to find empty drawers and closets. But instead, found them both laying peacefully on the bed, covered in a thin layer of dust. 

His mother had a gunshot wound to her temple.  

There were no words.

Setrakian looked them over, and silently stood, waiting for Vasiliy to acknowledge he was somehow okay. But no such acknowledgement came.

“They were infected.” Abraham said.

Vasiliy only looked at their bodies. Regret filled him and all he could think of was how was supposed to tell Myla.

“They chose to go out on their own terms...” Setrakian added. “It’s... an admirable death.”

“I thought this would happen,” Vasiliy finally said. “That’s why I avoided it for so long... I didn’t want to face it. I didn’t want Myla to see it.”

“We can’t protect the ones we love.” Abraham said. “We can try. But it’s only makes it worse in the end because we feel that we have failed them.”

“What... what do I tell her?” Vasiliy asked.

“The truth.” Setrakian said. “It is all we can do. It’s just you two now. Remember that.”

The professor gave Vasiliy a moment while he kept watch in the hallway. Vasiliy didn’t take long saying goodbye but grabbed a few mementos before meeting the professor. Then they moved forward, leaving death behind them, determined to end this disease and take back their lives.

And the Professor was right, if Myla was all he had left then they had to defeat the Master, or there would be no life for either of them to live.

 


	17. Family

For some reason, she had never expected it to feel quite like this.

“Something not to your liking?” Quinlan asked.

“I thought it would be softer,” Myla replied.

“It’s a coffin. I don’t think anyone who has used one managed to complain about comfort.”

“You never know,” Myla said.

“Then it will work,” Quinlan said. “I detest the idea of the Master being comfortable while locked in that box.”

“Then, by all means, let's get this one,” Myla said as she climbed out of the box, taking Quinlan's hand so she didn't fall.

The lid snapped shut and Quinlan lifted the coffin over his shoulder like it weighed nothing.

“I’ll grab us some wheels then?” Myla asked raising her eyebrows to his display of strength.

They had left the funeral parlor sooner than expected. There had been one not too far from them, and Myla didn’t expect Vasiliy back for some time.

Back at the Olympian, they managed to gut the coffin of all luxuries. Pulling up the satin fabric and underlying cushions. Once they were done it was a regular old box.

“Looks even less comfortable now,” Myla said grinning at Quinlan.

“Good,” he replied. “I hope it works.”

Myla reached out to touch his arm. “It will. It has to.”

There was a moment of peaceful silence between them before Quinlan interjected.

“I need to feed,” Quinlan said. “I’ll be back within the hour.”

Myla was surprised by his comment. “Breakfast wasn’t enough for you, huh?” she said with a smile.

Quinlan looked down at her, he pressed his forehead against hers. “You, my dear, will never be food to me.” Quinlan’s fingers threaded through her dark hair, combing through the strands until he reached her shoulder. Quinlan knew the small tastes he’d taken from her were acts of pleasure, not sustenance. He could never look at her the way he looked at those frightened humans he would prey upon.

“I forget it makes you feel funny.”

“It makes me feel good, Myla,” Quinlan said. “I’ll be back soon.”

Myla stepped up on her tip-toes to meet Quinlan in a parting kiss.

Myla admired the box, happy that she and Quinlan had managed to complete a useful task, despite Vasiliy’s reservations this morning.

Now the sun was setting and she only wished she wasn’t alone. She used to prefer things this way. She liked having her own space, no one to worry about but herself. Now all that had changed. Vasiliy had the nerve to keep her here in an attempt to keep her out of harm's way, but they all knew this job was dangerous, and now Myla was the one worrying about him.

If she had her way she would stop this any way she could. She was prepared to die for her brother... wasn’t that the right thing?

She looked at the clock, Quinlan had been gone longer than he said he would. Now she had him to worry about as well.

She felt rather comfortable with him now. The only night she found him rather threatening had been the night they met. They had been carrying around a book worth over three-hundred million dollars and then he showed up. Myla thought they were done for.

_“The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Well, I guess in this case, the lover is an appropriate substitution.”_

Myla smiled at the thought. She wondered if this plan would work... if saving Quinlan’s time was feasible. And if they did manage to save it... where would that leave them?

Myla had to keep herself from thinking too far ahead. Right now keeping everyone alive was the important thing.

Myla heard the elevator doors open, but didn’t hear anyone talking, she waited patiently to see who came around the corner, her eyes glancing at a nearby gun just in case it was someone she didn’t know.

She was relieved to see Vasiliy, the professor was in tow behind him, Vasiliy looked at the box they brought back.

“Quinlan found this?” Vasiliy asked quietly.

“Yeah. Then we stripped it.” Myla said.

“The half-muncher didn’t do too bad.”

Vasiliy set down his backpack. Myla could see several silver plates hiding within it.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Vasiliy asked.

“We’re talking right now,” she said. She glanced in the direction of the professor... wondering if he had discussed this morning's events with Vasiliy.

Vasiliy pulled two small leather journals from his bag, Myla recognized them immediately, and her heart fell to her knees.

Myla stood up, completely silent, eyeing her mother’s journals. She looked at them, and then back at Vasiliy. She knew by the look on Vasiliy’s face that something wasn’t right.

“I don’t know how to tell you this Lulu...”

“Don’t-” Myla choked.

“They’re gone.” came out of his mouth as a whisper.

“When... how?”

“I’m gonna say early on. The whole building was crawling with infected.”

Myla’s hands covered her face as she pictured her parents roaming around as Strigoi.

“No... kid, they uh, went out a different way. Dad’s idea I’m guessing. They were infected, but they ended it before they could turn.”

Myla embraced her brother.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take you with.” he said.

Myla said nothing. She pulled away from her brother and took the journals before slipping into her own room. She didn't want him to see her cry. Not when she was trying to make a case to be useful.

Myla hadn’t seen her mother in quite some time... somehow Myla thought that time should make this pain easier, but instead it made it worse. So many things were left unsaid.  
She thumbed through the journals, remembering them fondly, her mother kept them for ideas, recipes, and even a few memories were jotted down as well. Myla quickly found out most of the newest entries were about her and Vasiliy. Their mother had missed them greatly and thought of them often.

Tucked as a bookmark, Myla found her mother’s favorite photo. It was of the three of them, their father had been the one to snap the photo. Myla smiled fondly at her mother’s huge smile as she stood next to her two children. Myla had finished a ballet concert, she couldn’t have been older than twenty. She remembered Vasiliy had brought her flowers, she couldn’t remember a time when they were happier.

* * *

 

It was late when Quinlan arrived at the Olympian. He had had trouble finding a suitable food source, taking pity on the few humans he had come across.

He found Vasiliy, hammering away at the box they had acquired this morning. Though usually socially inept, even Quinlan could tell Vasiliy was in some sort of mood. The professor had to fill him in on the day's findings in the other room. Quinlan felt sorry for Myla, he knew she had to be upset. Though despite that, he tried to sit with the professor and act uninterested while the two of them worked on translations.

“You should go to her.” The professor said after only a few moments.

Quinlan looked at him, and then down the hall to Myla’s door.

“Neither of them have said anything for a while now. Maybe it’s best someone look in on her.”

Quinlan said nothing in response, only left the table and quietly made his way down the hall. He had come to understand death more than most. But even though his familiarity with the subject left him prepared for moments like this... he knew Myla was not. He remembered the pain of death all too well. Especially the one of his own mother.

He found her sitting in the corner of the room, knees against her chest, forehead to her knees.

Quinlan sat next to her and let her wrap herself against him. They were silent for a moment, until Quinlan knew how he could help.

“My mother and I were unique,” Quinlan said. “Both of us were a little more human than the master would have liked us to be.”

Myla looked up at him from his shoulder. She seemed to like him talking about his mother.

“When I was born she fed me from her breast and when I grew strong, we hunted together. Though that was so long ago now, I’ve almost forgotten what she looked like." Quinlan's head tilted as he recalled the memory. "I still remember this day, I couldn’t have been more than thirteen. But the men had learned to avoid the area we had been living in, and so we had to venture further and further for food. One day I was on my own, and I ended up being captured by a group of hunters. They knew what I was, and that I had been the one responsible for those that had gone missing.”

Quinlan paused, suddenly sad at the flood of memories.

“I remember thinking I would die then." Quinlan's gaze was hard and unmoving. "And I would have... if it were not for my mother. When the sun fell and she came looking for me. And she saved me.”

Quinlan felt Myla’s hand touch his face. Bringing him back from the day and to her. She was smiling up at him, clearly, his story had helped in some way. Perhaps he was learning about these social constructs Myla so often teased him about.

“Look,” Myla said showing him the photo.

Quinlan saw a younger Vasiliy, a younger Myla, and the woman who was clearly their mother.

“We were so happy that day.”

“Of course you were,” Quinlan said. “And you will be that happy again.”

“I hope we kill him. Or trap him. Whatever. I just want this gone.”

“I know. The master took my mother from me as well. That was the first time I vowed to kill him. As a young boy, of course, I had no means to, but I’ve failed all other opportunities to kill the master prior to this evening. Our next attempt will work. We will end this.”

Myla hugged him close to her, and together they looked forward to their revenge.

__________________________________________________________

“Okay, this is definitely uncomfortable.” Myla said.

“Again, it’s a coffin,” Quinlan said.

“No, now it’s a silver fridge.” Myla climbed out of the renovated coffin, finding it eerie and unsettling. “When do we get to do this thing?”

“We still need more silver to finish the lid,” Vasiliy said.

“We plan on asking Palmer to... arrange a meeting.” The professor added.

“This is all the silver your friend had?” Myla asked.

“All the real silver anyway.”

Myla tongued her teeth for a moment before she climbed out of the box.

“What is it?” Vasiliy asked her.

“Nothing.” Myla quickly replied.

“You have something to say, I know that look,” Vasiliy said.

“I just know where a bit of silver is. I just so happens to be at the Fairy.”

“Oh no. No, No, No.” Vasiliy said.

“Oh come on it’s probably empty!”

“Why would there be silver there?” Vasiliy asked.

“Jimmy and his brothers were big on silver coins, you know like buying gold...”

“You mean they didn’t much care for banks.” The professor said.

“Yeah pretty much,” Myla said nodding her head.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Vasiliy said,

“I disagree, Let's get the silver and get this finished, I’m tired of waiting.” Quinlan argued.

“We’re still waiting for the Master to choose a form, Quinlan. We won’t be able to find him until he does, but there is nothing wrong with completing this in a timely manner.”

Setrakian said.

“Vasiliy just doesn’t want to go back there. Not like you ever had to work there.” Myla said.

“No, you did. That’s bad enough.” Vasiliy said.

“So you’re afraid of what? A building neither of us has been in for two and a half years?”

“No -” Vasiliy said crossing his arms. “I just-”

“-Don’t want me to go,” Myla said. “Well that’s too bad, I know how to get into the safe.”

“You can just tell me the combination.” Vasiliy said.

“How about we head out while there’s still daylight?” Myla asked. “We could have this box done by tomorrow, you could even meet Eldrich Palmer later this evening if you stop fussing-”

“Alright!” Vasiliy said finally giving in to her coaxing. He didn't like the idea, but she was right, if she knew where to find silver, they should at least entertain the idea. 

“I will stay here then, Mr. Fet you can retrieve me after you get the silver, and we will get in touch with Palmer.”

“Or we can just go hit the pawn shops on the west side -” Vasiliy was cut off by Myla ingnoring his alternitave plan.

“You coming, Quinlan?” Myla asked.

Quinlan nodded in response as Myla tied her shoes in a double knot. Vasiliy watched as Quinlan slipped on his leather coat.

“Oh fine then!” Vasiliy said. "I'll drive."

*  *  *

Vasiliy pulled out of the parking lot grumpier then he thought he would be this morning. He had just found out his parents were dead. So had Myla, so why the hell wasn’t she more upset?

“You know if this place’s got too many of those things in there were turning around.”

“Can’t take any risks,” Myla said sarcastically.

“I mean it. We’re turning around if it looks bad.”

“What is it about that place? It’s not like anyone’s going to offer you a lap dance. At least god, I hope nothing else does...”

“It’s not... It’s not the munchers.”

“Then what is it?”

“They still have your picture up,” Vasiliy said. “They never took it down.”

“Oh god,” Myla said with an eye roll.  
“The guys from work still went there up until all this happened. They uh... really like that photo.”

“Well, we will just have to make sure it comes down, yeah?”

The car ride was a quiet one. Myla felt less annoyed by Vasiliy the more she thought of Quinlan. Seeing the two of them in such close proximity made her nervous. Only this morning she was wondering what would become of them if they succeeded in trapping the master.

She hadn’t even thought about how she would explain this to Vasiliy.

There was no way in hell that he would react calmly, let alone come to understand.

“Is... that?”

“It is,” Quinlan said.

Vasiliy pulled over the car. There were a couple gunshots, Myla turned her head to find Dutch Velders and Doctor Goodweather in a firefight.

“Get down!” Vasiliy shouted.

Myla tucked her head between her knees, she heard a shot hit the back of their car. Myla looked up for a moment to find Quinlan had disappeared.

Vasiliy moved their vehicle out of the line of fire, as Myla caught a glimpse of the blur that was Quinlan. He cut down several men, killing the assailants, and saving a small family.

Myla felt herself frown as they turned to run from Quinlan. The family scrambled to get into the car - driving away as fast as they could.

“We’re not bad people!” she heard Dutch shout, “We’re trying to help!”

“Did you expect a thank you?” Quinlan asked once the engine was gone. Vasiliy exited the vehicle next, Myla followed.

“Where are you two headed?”

“The airport.”

“Why the hell would you go there?” Vasiliy asked. “That's ground zero.”

“We need something from the plane. Something that can help us track the master.”

“Track him how?” Quinlan asked.

“Like... a radio. Sort of.” Dutch said.

“Isn’t that kind of a suicide mission?” Vasiliy asked.

“What else do we have, we’re nowhere near destroying this guy... and Dutch has some pretty good ideas.”

“What if you had Quinlan’s help?” Myla asked.

Quinlan looked at Myla, though she had no way of reading his gaze behind those dark goggles.

“We’re just out for silver - we can handle this,” Myla said staring into those dark goggles. Quinlan nodded in response.

“If you really think you can track him,” Quinlan said.

“The end goal won’t be to just track him, we’re hoping to more or less incapacitate him.”

“So it’s settled. We’ll be up the street. And you three will go to the airport.”

“We will check the club first,” Quinlan said. “Like Fet said, there is no use in going after silver if it is overrun.”

“Fine,” Myla said. “Let’s all go.”

They only had to drive a few blocks before they reached the doors to the club. There was a chain around the door, and nothing could be seen through the dark windows. Vasiliy clipped the chain and had the doors open so the three of them could take a quick look around. Dutch and Ephraim stayed outside to keep watch.

The first good sign was there was no scent of Strigoi. Their stench was unmistakable, that meant the place was safe, and no one had been around for a while.

“I don’t hear anything nearby.” Quinlan said, “How big is this place?”

“Three floors,” Myla said. “That’s including the basement.”

Myla clicked on her flashlight. The fresh batteries made the white light shine brightly. Illuminating the switch to the backup lights. Myla flipped the switch, several small amber lights began to glow down each of the hallways. It wasn’t bright, but it would help them get around.

And then she saw that damn poster. Vasiliy was right, it was still here, why wouldn’t it be - the club did own the image, and people seemed to like it. Myla was hardly recognizable. The girl in this photo greatly differed from the one Myla had been looking at last night.

The image was printed on canvas, framed in a glitzy silver frame that didn’t help the nature of the photo. Myla was wearing her signature purple wig and a glamorous see-through nightgown that had been designed by some up-and-coming New York Designer. No doubt whoever they were, they were probably dead now.

It was fitting coming back here. At least this part of herself could die in a symbolic manner.

She took her sword and cut through the canvas, folding it into fourths before turning around and finding Quinlan standing beside her.

“Still learning to listen I see.”

“Please, I saw you follow me back here,” Myla said.

“Then please continue to be observant, keep your sword close, and be safe,” he said as he placed a quick kiss on her forehead.

“Thanks, Quinlan... for going with them.”

“I would rather keep an eye on you, but I’ll admit you are right, if they can do what they say, then my departure will be worth it.”

“At least you trust me,” Myla said looking down the hallway she new Vasiliy had ventured off to.

“That... was a very interesting choice of attire,” Quinlan said softly.

Myla looked down at the folded up image, a blush crossed her face, though one couldn’t tell under the amber lights.

“Stop,” she said playfully smacking him. “I’m going to light it on fire and toss it in the trash on the way home.”

“I’ll see you there,” he said. “Before dark, if you can.”

Myla nodded disappointed that she could hear Vasiliy nearby. She wanted to kiss him, but she settled for a soft squeeze of his hand before it slipped from hers entirely.

“I think we’re clear here,” Vasiliy said. “Where’s the safe?”

“Downstairs.” Myla said, “This way.”

“Quinlan take off?”

“Yeah, he’ll meet us back at the Olympian.”

Myla passed Vasiliy, taking the lead as they both quietly made their way to the end of the hall. There was still no sign of anything living - and the longer they went hearing nothing, the better Myla felt.

The door to the basement creaked open, and the wooden stairs were anything but quiet, but when they got to the bottom step, they both put away their weapons. The safety lights down here were at least brighter than the ones upstairs, they could see the place was empty. There were several desks, a row of lockers, a few vanity tables... the whole place was just as she remembered.

“Here,” Myla said, indicating to the door in the back. “Office.”

The door was locked. Myla knew the key was always around Jimmy’s neck, and probably still was... whenever the hell he may be. But the lock was small, and Vasiliy wasted no time in forcing it open with his boot.

“After you,” he said.

Myla entered the office, the large safe door in the corner leads to a one-room safe. There Jimmy kept all his guns, cash, and drugs. Myla had often found it odd that he chose to keep so much silver, but now that didn’t matter, all she knew was that they needed it.

“What makes you think he hasn’t changed the combo to this thing since you’ve been here?” Vasiliy asked.

“He has,” Myla responded. “He changes it every few weeks.”

“So...”

“He can’t remember it because he changes it so often, so he writes it on a sticky note...” Myla ran her hands up the sides of the desk, underneath it, checking each drawer as she went. “... and hides it in a different spot each time.”

“And you’re sure you can find it?”

“Ah!” Myla said, pulling the small piece of paper from the back of a cabinet. She smiled to herself, proud. “Done.”

Myla put in the code to the safe door, hoping she wasn't going to have to hunt for any more pieces of paper. And then it clicked.

“This guy is pretty dumb. It took an employee from two years ago to crack his safe in less than five minutes.”

“Well, what can I say, I’m observant,” Myla said with a smile.

With empty bags, the two of them began to pull silver from the shelves. Myla saw that some of the coins had been upgraded to bars, more silver for them, but heavier to carry.

“What happened to all that silver we got the day of the bombing?”

“I uh, need that for something,” Vasiliy said.

“For what?”

“We’re uh, going after a nest in Central Park.”

“A nest? How big? Like the one in the tunnels?”

“Bigger. A lot bigger.” Vasiliy said.

Myla became angry at that point. It took pulling teeth to get Vasiliy to let her go out on a run, but he’s allowed to roam through strigoi infested parks... where probably thousands of these things are bound to be and she’s not allowed to tell him no.

“Jesus Vasiliy,” Myla said. “You were worried about me getting this silver, we’re going to be driving away from here in less than an hour with more silver then we could need and you’ve been planning some battle at central park!?”

“It’s not a battle. It’s a nest, we go in during the day, take ‘em out when there sleepin’. No big deal.”

“You... don’t want to step back and think about that for a bit? About where that would leave me if you died? Jesus, Mom, and Dad are dead - you seem really eager to join them.”

“Yeah, they are dead. Not like you seem to care. You woke up this morning perkier than ever, and I’m damn sure it wasn’t the coffee.”

“I woke up with a plan. A plan of action to kill the fucker that killed mom, and I think this silver box is a damn good idea. I kinda like the idea of the damn thing rotting in there forever.”

“So that’s it, you wanna kill the master, I wanna kill a few thousand munchers, I don’t see how that’s any different.”

Myla stopped for a moment. Tears were stinging her eyes, and her hands were shaking.

“At least my plan has Quinlan, and the Professor, and thousands of years of ancient knowledge... your’s involves explosives and a lot of fucking risks.”

“How about this place, huh?” Vasiliy said looking around, “Wasn’t this place a risk? Taking a chance on mom to pay some bills knowing each day you worked here you drank more and more... and when the buzz didn’t do the trick, you switched to that shit on those shelves over there.”

Myla turned to look at the bags of white powder, crystal, weed... you could name it and Jimmy had it on that shelf.

“We do crazy shit when we love people,” Vasiliy said. “I love you, and I loved mom and I’m going to hit those suckers where it counts.”

“But you’re risking your life. What happens if you’re gone?” Myla asked.

“Just like that time at Coney Island. When I lost you... what did you do?”

“I- I don’t remember Vasiliy... I was too young.”

“You started crying, and you asked for help from a nice woman with another kid your age. And you stayed with her, and she got you some food while she waited for security to find me. You... you did okay. You did the right thing.”

“This isn’t Coney Island... and I’m not six.”

“But you’ll do it all again. Find a friend, maybe a cute guy... huh?”

“Vasiliy!” Myla said blushing again. “That’s hardly on my mind right now.”

“Yeah, but life goes on kid. You know that. We all do.”

Myla felt calm, she smiled at Vasiliy before giving him a hug. It was a strong hug, one she realized they had yet to share despite the several embraces they had shared since reuniting.

“Love you, Lulu.”

“Oh god, don’t call me that,” Myla said as she began to load more silver into the bags, the clinking pulling them back to the task at hand. “I uh. Love you too, Vas.”

Vasiliy was about to laugh, but a much sinister voice entered the conversation... it came from outside the safe, threatening to Vasiliy, and familiar to Myla.

“Lulu... ha. Ain’t that sweet boys? Lavender isn’t her only nickname!”

“Jimmy...” Myla whispered.

Vasiliy quickly felt like a cornered rat, the walls to the safe were double bricked, no windows, or exits, just one big steel door.

Both of them didn’t know what sort of threat the Master was once the door shut them inside. Vasiliy quickly thought of the various ways they could die in here if whoever that was chose to never let them out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My inspiration for the whole Lavender character is loosely based on Natalie Portman's Alice from Closer. I just liked the costume get up, and thought it works well with Myla's character. Thank you all for reading, I enjoyed your nice comments, thank you so much.


	18. The Past

Myla and Vasiliy were sitting on the floor of the safe, Vasiliy had been drumming his fingers for almost an hour now. Both of them were unsure of what was about to happen, they were nervous... and neither of them had said much since the door had shut.

For the first ten minutes, Vasiliy had proceeded to bang on the door, shouting loudly to ‘let us out!’ but his call went unanswered, and now they were both simply silent.

Vasiliy didn’t want to make Myla feel bad in any way, not after today, they had finally gotten through so much shit from their past that he didn’t want to stir up any old feelings about this place. It hadn’t been her fault someone had been staying here, no one had noticed any signs, they were caught by surprise.

Myla was more so frozen from seeing her old boss.

Myla was silently reeling on the floor of that safe. All she could do was replay her last night in New York at the Olympian. The night she had hit Jimmy’s brother over the head with a crystal decanter.

_The night she had killed a man._

No doubt, the men on the other side of that door had something terrible planned for her. All Myla could do was not panic Vasiliy.

“Quinlan,” Myla whispered softly, hoping he might be their savior.

“Dunno kid, what if they kill us first?” Vasiliy said. “I don’t expect the Born to work much about us when the Doc’s got him all excited about his new toy.”

“He would come look for us,” Myla said.

“Don’t sound so sure,” Vasiliy said disappointedly. Clearly, her brother still had a large amount of disdain for the man she was eagerly sharing her bed with on occasion.

‘That’s just one more thing to worry about....’ Myla thought.

“Don’t you know them? They knew you.” Vasiliy asked.

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t say we left on the best of terms,” Myla said.

“They got a reason they’d want you dead?” Vasiliy asked.

Myla was silent.

“So I take it they have a good reason then,” Vasiliy said as he gulped.

“Quinlan will come look for us when we don’t show,” Myla said.

“Why the hell would he do that?” Vasiliy said, “We’re not exactly his friends.”

“Well, you may not be,” Myla said.

“What the hell does that mean!?” Vasiliy asked raising an eyebrow.

Myla didn’t have to answer because the vault door opened, revealing her old boss who had a very happy look on his face.

“Boy, am I happy to see you,” Jimmy said. “Been looking for you for a while now.”

Myla looked at him then back to Vasiliy.

It took less than three seconds for Jimmy to pull her out of the vault, even with Vasiliy’s hands clinging to his sister. Jimmy was stronger and angrier.

Myla felt her stomach sink to her feet when the door was shut with Vasiliy on the other side. The look on her brother’s eyes was pure fear and she didn’t that to be the way she went out remembering him.

Myla was thrown onto her knees by several men. Almost all of them she recognized.

“Lulu... huh? What the hell kind of nickname is that? That your boyfriend in there?”

Myla said nothing. Then she felt Jimmy’s hand clamp around her jaw.

“You’ll talk or he dies,” Jimmy said.

“My name is Luidmyla,” she said proudly, “Lulu is what my brother calls me.”

“That’s right,” Jimmy said. “I remember that. That’s Russian right?”

“Ukrainian,” Myla said.

“Ukrainian.” Jimmy paused smiling down at her as he nodded his head, “I don’t forget someone who used to work for me.” Jimmy said. “You made me a lot of money, ass wrapped in those clothes, happy to dance cause she was paying her momma’s bills.”

“That was years ago, Jimmy,” Myla said. “How about you let an old friend go and we’ll leave everything - it will be like we were never here.”

“Oh, Lavender... we haven’t forgotten you for a while now,” Jimmy said. “We’ve been hoping you’d turn up in Brooklyn, even Jersey, where have you been hiding?”

“I got clean,” Myla said.

“Well, I wonder what got your pretty head thinking about getting clean,” Jimmy said. “It definitely wasn’t the drugs you borrowed... maybe it was the night you bashed in my brother’s brains?”

Myla swallowed hard.

“I didn’t-” Myla became nervous, she had no words for the man. She had felt guilty for killing his brother ever since it happened. But it had turned her whole life in a different direction. She heard Quinlan’s voice in her head telling her she had done the right thing.

“-I didn’t mean to hit him!” she cried out, eyes brimming with tears, “he was- I was - I was scared!”

Myla only got to see a sick smile spread across Jimmy’s face. Why was he smiling of all things?

Jimmy came in close to Myla, he grabbed her jaw once more, “I bet you were scared...” he said, “But not as scared as you’re gonna be.”

Myla felt something hard collide with the back of her head. Then everything went black.

* * *

 

When Quinlan left the airport he’d managed to feel something he hadn’t felt for quite some time.

It was hope.

This semblance of hope had become overwhelming for him, and for a moment he wasn’t completely consumed with revenge.

He knew it had to be them. All of them, especially Myla, giving him this hope.

Being a guarded creature for centuries he had only let his walls down a handful of times. There were Tasa and Sura. A farmer girl, he’d spent a brief night with. Then more recently, Lydia and Louisa. Though intimacy was a part of his life, there were only a few women that had given him hope.

But this time it wasn’t just Myla, it was a whole team. Feeling human was one thing, but feeling hopeful that this could soon be over was another. He had never come this close, to having both at the same time, except perhaps with Louisa... but he vowed that he wouldn’t let the Master manipulate him in that way again.

The professor greeted Quinlan when he returned, and seemed rather interested in the Ephraim and Ms. Velder’s experiment.

Thought they were both intrigued by such a weapon, they both seemed more plagued by the idea of this box.

Even Quinlan could tell the professor was bothered by an old memory. But even amongst doubts, there was no mistake that they were both ready to end this - both of them tired from the hunt. Both of them harboring a grudge for the Master and whatever had created him... why had they been forced to live a life where they did nothing but chase a monster who would take everything from them?

Even the professor knew that Vasiliy, Myla, Ms. Velders and the Doctor had been a huge help in their purpose... having friends... and even a semblance of a family made their cause just. It reminded them that there were things still worth fighting for.

It was 10pm, and the hour had come sooner than expected. Quinlan had become uncomfortable when Myla hadn't returned. He had pretended not to notice when he himself had returned after dark. But when two more hours had passed he’d begun to worry. They should have been back before him, but with the professor carefully eyeing him, he tried to act as though he didn’t notice.

But even Professor Setrakian had noticed Quinlan drumming his fingers on the sofa arm.

“If you are concerned, perhaps you could go look for them.” the Professor said.

“Why do you assume I am concerned?” Quinlan asked, he stopped drumming his fingers and that was more telling than any human habit.

“I’ve already told you, Myla deserves someone better than the likes of you. But even though you have chosen to disregard my warning, you might as well play the part and go check on them. She may just need your help.”

Quinlan sighed, his jaw tightened, his body giving into his hidden tension.

“Go.” the professor said. “Even I am worried.”

Quinlan silently rose from the couch, putting on his coat and saying nothing as he walked out of the room and into the elevator.

* * *

 

Myla sat up abruptly, she was in a familiar room, the dressing room. The smell of smoke and alcohol hit her nostrils abruptly and she was thrust back to two years ago. Day in and day out - this had been her life. She looked down at herself, she was wearing some god damn uncomfortable lingerie and a dyed nylon wig.

It was like she had woken up in a nightmare.

Everything was recognizable, even a face.

“Hey, girl.”

It was Emily. Or Jade, as they called her. She was always a kind girl, made the job better than it should have been. She’s ended up being Jimmy’s girlfriend - on and off, as he routinely liked to mess around with other women. But she stuck by him for the same reason Myla had worked for him so long.

Even Myla was concerned, she didn’t look well. No doubt coping with New York’s sickness by doping herself with drugs.

“Did you dress me?!” Myla asked.

“Yeah, they picked it out though.”

“Shit,” Myla said,

“I hope leaving was worth it,” Emily asked.

“I- I don’t- know what you mean,” Myla said as she pulled on the clothes she had been dressed in.

“You ran away, left us to deal with him.”

“I didn’t do shit,” Myla said. “His brother got handsy, and I don’t do that shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve all dealt with handsy shit. You just had to go and make problems.”

“Don’t do that. You know you would’ve hit him over the head too.” Myla said, pulling off the wig. It itched her head.

“I wouldn’t -” Emily said. “They expect you to wear it.”

“In this shit? They know there are fucking Strigs running around the streets of New York right? He’s still trying to run some sort of club in spite of all that?”

“He doesn’t give a shit,” Emily said. “He likes to live here, in his own little world. That way he gets to be some kind of king.”

“He’s just ignoring everything going on out there?” Myla said.

“He’s trying to. Nobody comes to the club. Hasn’t even had anyone coming by for drugs. But he’s had me and Katrina dance for him and the guys.”

“Katrina’s still around?” Myla asked.

“No, she left too. Everyone with a brain has by now. I would too if I was strong enough. Don’t know why the hell you came back.”

“Came back for family,” Myla said fixing the wig on her head.

They were both interrupted by one of Jimmy’s men. Both of them were ushered out into a familiar room. Myla didn't like this. She was surrounded by familiar and unfamiliar faces. Emily seemed to be at ease, but Myla felt threatened. She was half naked and back living a portion of her life she would much rather forget.

Myla felt a hand grasp at the back of her neck. The grip was hard and forceful.

“I have someone for you to say hi to.” she heard Jimmy purr in her ear.

Myla looked, and out of the shadows across the room came Jimmy’s brother Alec. The man she had hit in the head. The man she had thought she killed.

“Hey, sweet gal.”

Myla’s heart began to beat. But it wasn’t a nervous flutter it was a strong pulse that urged her to fight. The man was eyeing Myla from head to toe. It was the same look he had given her years ago. That look had told Myla that he was dangerous.

Myla was standing in the middle of the room while everyone else seemed to make themselves comfortable.

This was fucked up. At least Alonso Creem had traded guns, well aware that there was money to make on a plague such as this, but to ignore it entirely, that was insane.

Still, in survival mode, Myla had already eyed her sword sitting on a pile of her clothes, she could see the but of her shotgun sticking out her backpack that they had taken from her. She glanced at the vault door and thought of Vasiliy. She had to get him out of there.

So her thoughts turned to Quinlan, and what he would have taught her, what he would expect her to do in this situation.

There were a lot of men in the room. But fewer guns than one would expect, a couple of them had knives or a small pistol on their hip - that was lucky.

But she would need a window of opportunity to strike, and that wasn’t going to be easy to get.

Myla was thrust forward into the chest of another man, and then forcefully placed on Alec’s lap.

“You know... this reminds me of a few years back,” he said as he gripped her hips tightly. “What are you doing trying to take our silver?”

“You can go fuck yourself,” Myla said.

“She always did have a mouth on her!” Alec called out giving her a smack on her thigh. Myla was able to notice a large scar down the side of his face, she didn’t remember him having it that night... it must have been the one she gave him. “You seem surprised to see me?” Alec said with a somewhat gloating overtone.

“I thought you were dead,” Myla said through her teeth.

“Wouldn’t you be so lucky.” Alec snapped back. “Now, get your ass up there,” Alec said as he pushed Myla from his lap. He meant for Myla to join Emily on stage. She didn’t want to dance, but it looked like she was going to anyway. “I never got to finish my dance.”

Perhaps this could be her opportunity.

Myla eyed the pile of clothes once more, this time grateful that Vasiliy had forced her to carry a shotgun. It seemed that for the first time, she was going to need it.

Myla’s ankles wobbled in the platform heels they had chosen for her as she made her way to the stage stairs. Whether it was the quality of the shoe or her nervousness that made her stumble, she didn’t know - she only knew that she had to get that gun.

There was a shitty sound system in the corner, someone had skipped to the next track - Myla had never danced to it before, nor had she ever heard it. But now for some reason, she knew she was always going to remember it.

To play the part, Myla had to grace the stage with enough distracting qualities that they wouldn’t expect anything. It made her sick to do this again. Twirl around a pole, watching her dignity spiral away from her. If she wasn’t careful she was going to make herself sick, but that didn’t even account for the bloodshed she intended to cause.

She watched carefully, trying to survey which man was the most intoxicated... which man would be the easiest target. Should she go for more than one?

She thought about how Vasiliy had told her the difference between a short nose and a long nose shotgun. Vasiliy had taught her that in close quarters like this, she could take out more than one man.

She was going to have to use that strategy to her advantage.

She waited for her moment. And it was a beautiful moment, one that Quinlan would have been proud of. She listened to her feet, her skill set allowing her to fall and roll in a graceful enough move that no one noticed her intentions. She was swift and skilled as she made her way off the stage and pulled the shotgun from her bag. Before anyone had even realized what she had done, she had emptied the two rounds in front of her.

She dropped behind the sofa as she loaded two more shells into the chamber.

She had a real chance now. Or she was going to get killed. But it was better than finding out what Alec or Jimmy had planned.

She cocked the gun.

She fired two more rounds over the couch.

Quinlan would have chastised her for not looking when she fired. Though she had managed to hit another man, but hadn’t noticed the another flanking her, he came at her with a needle. Myla was knocked over. She felt warm blood across her back, she only knew it wasn’t hers... she drew her attention to the man on top of her now. She was fighting him, pushing his hand back as he tried to thrust a syringe into her neck.

But she wasn’t strong enough. She watched as the syringe came closer and closer, she felt it prick her skin as he tried to push down on the plunger.

Myla then felt his weight fall dead on top of her. She looked up to find Emily holding a bat above their heads. Myla rolled the man off her, pulling Emily back behind the couch with her. Myla was able to reach her sword, but a bullet whizzed past her and into the wall above her things. She had to duck down, her sword slipped from her grasp as she pulled herself back undercover.

“Have you gone fucking crazy??” Emily asked.

“How many did I get?” Myla asked.

“Four,” Emily replied stunned that Myla was so cavalier.

Myla looked down, she saw Emily had been hit by a bullet. Myla tore away her nylon stocking and tied it tightly above Emily’s knee.

“I couldn’t stand being on that stage for one more minute,” Myla said as she took a peek over the sofa she caught eyes with Jimmy before she ducked back down.

“Damn bitch!” she heard Alec say.

“You’ll pay for what you’ve done! Before it was just us having a little fun with you. But now we’re gonna have to hurt you!” Jimmy yelled out.

Myla was disappointed she hadn’t hit those two first.

Myla pulled the last two rounds from the side of the shotgun. There were more in her bag, but she couldn’t get to them right now.

Myla jumped forward, her ribs were going to bruise from the force in which she hit the floor. But she got a hand on her sword and fired off a protective shot in the other’s general direction to protect herself.

Myla pulled herself back to the couch.

“Why don’t you come on out, and we’ll go... easier on you,” Alec said. “I was planning on being really nice to you anyway.”

Myla’s skin crawled at that statement. In fact... her skin was crawling all over. Her hand rushed to her neck feeling for the injection site.

“It was a sedative,” Emily said. “I don’t think he got you the whole dose, but that can’t be a good thing.”

Emily was right. Myla felt numbness in her fingers and toes, if she was going to be worth any fight, it was going to have to be soon. There were four more... if she got lucky with the gun, her sword could do the rest.

* * *

 

Quinlan found the smell of human blood from the club easily. So easily, in fact, he knew it would attract strigoi, that thought terrified him. Perhaps strigoi had already beat him there. Perhaps Myla was already dead.

Quinlan sped down the street and slipped inside. He noticed once the empty club was now littered with packs and guns, signifying a return of someone who had been staying here.

He should have caught this.

Quinlan grit his teeth as he made his way down the hall. He followed the scent of gunpowder, only slowing down to make sure his footsteps moved silently. Then he heard her, it was a familiar whimper, one he had heard her make the first night she was stung.

Quinlan kicked in the door, he felt relief when he couldn’t recognize the scent of Myla’s tainted blood. Quinlan noted the wounded woman hiding in the corner of the room. She looked at Quinlan wide-eyed, and then glanced at a nearby doorway.

He noted the six dead bodies around the room that were littered with shotgun pellets - when he saw Myla’s sword, it too was stained with blood.

Quinlan took several steps in a mere second as he made his way to the open doorway. Inside he saw two men, one was hunched over with a wound much like the one Myla had managed to give Quinlan the other night. This man was doubled over, his hand clutching his belly at a poor attempt at stop the bleeding.

The other man had wrapped his hands around Myla’s throat, clearly squeezing as hard as he could. Quinlan’s stinger reacted in that moment to protect Myla - not to feed himself, even though his plans were to drain the man dry.

He watched Myla’s feet hit the ground, then her knees gave way as she fell forward.

Quinlan had intended to kill the man from blood loss, but he had to retract his stinger prematurely as he knelt to catch Myla. She was shaking and covered in head to toe in the blood from the men in the other room.

Myla looked up at him, and relief washed over her eyes. Or was it something else?

“What the fuck is that thing!?” Jimmy said still clutching his belly.

Quinlan pulled Myla to her feet, thinking she’d regain her strength now that her blood flow had been restored. But she was shaky and weak. She folded into him like a piece of paper, and Quinlan held her against him.

He looked down at her eyes again, realizing she was intoxicated, no doubt drugged by these men who intended to kill her. Quinlan could only hope he’d gotten here in time to stop any other acts they may have chosen to inflict upon her. Usually, one does not sedate their prey to kill them, one only sedates his prey to play with them.

Quinlan pulled his own sword from his back, he left one arm wrapped around Myla, while the other came down hard in a swift stroke to end Jimmy’s life. Quinlan heard Alec’s heart rate slowing, he would bleed out in a manner of minutes anyway, it wasn’t worth his time.

But it was worth Myla’s.

She had already killed this man in a past life. And despite all the regret she ever let herself feel, she now knew she had done the right thing. She palmed Quinlan’s sword, she felt him release the bone handle into her grasp as she summoned enough strength to turn around stab Alec in the chest.

He stopped moving as soon as she retracted the sword from his body. Myla took a deep breath and sighed back into Quinlan’s chest.

“Myla, are you hurt? What have they given you?” Quinlan asked. his voice was a relief to her. Against him, she felt safe.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled. “Some... sedative. Vasiliy’s... in the office.”

“Where?” Quinlan asked.

Myla remembered the combination to the safe she stumbled forward, away from Quinlan. She made her way into the next room... the room where Emily was still lying on the floor. Myla’s hands grasped the back of the couch but she pulled them away when she felt bits of skin and... something else wet her palm.

Emily’s eyes widened in fear, as Quinlan stepped out of the darkness and placed his hand around her waist supporting her so she didn’t have to touch the carnage. Then Emily’s face changed to shock.

Quinlan glanced down at the outfit Myla was wearing. He quickly realized her missing leg stocking was hastily tied to the leg of the girl at his feet.

“Vasiliy...” Myla said again dazed and hoarse.

Quinlan could hear banging now coming from the other room. It was muffled well, he was surprised he hadn’t heard someone banging on the wall earlier. Quinlan took off his coat draped it around Myla hiding her revealing outfit. Quinlan even took the time to close the coat for her, meeting their hands for just a moment in a small embrace. One which Emily saw. Then he sat Myla down next to Emily.

“30-36-19,” Myla said softly.

Quinlan looked at the next room, realizing now why Vasiliy’s protests were so quiet.

Quinlan left her alone then, and Myla looked at Emily.

“Do they have a car you can take?” Myla asked.

“Yeah, in the garage next door,” Emily said.

“Good. Take it and leave the city.” Myla said, “You don’t want to be around for what’s happening here.”

“I take it you know a lot more about those things cause of that boyfriend of yours?” Emily asked.

“He’s uh-” Myla was going to correct her, but she didn’t. What was a label anyway? “He plays a part in this, yeah. But it’s a good part.”

“What WAS THAT?” Vasiliy asked, “WERE THOSE GUNSHOTS-” Vasiliy stopped speaking mid-sentence, his tone went from rage to shock. “Oh my god...”

Vasiliy’s eye darted all over the room, noting the shotgun he’d given Myla could be the only culprit for this kind of carnage. Then his eyes hit Myla, the blood on her face horrified him, she looked pale, and she was slow to respond.

“Oh my god, Myla where are you hurt?!” Vasiliy dropped to her side.

“I’m not,” she whispered, voice still hoarse as her vocal chords had begun to swell from the trauma they had just endured.

“She’s on a tranquilizer,” Emily added. “She- She’ll be fine in a few hours.”

“Jesus.... Lu - you were gone for so long, and then I knew I heard your shotgun and there were different shots... I thought you were dead for sure.” Vasiliy said holding her face in his hands.

“Not quite,” Myla said leaning forward and picking up her sword. She wiped Jimmy’s blood off it on the end of the couch.

Quinlan felt an odd sense of pride as he watched her do that.

The four of them went upstairs to the ground floor, and Vasiliy spared an extra moment to bandage Emily’s leg. It had been a through and through bullet wound, and in a lucky place too. Vasiliy felt like it would heal all right on its own.

Myla asked Quinlan to make sure that Emily got to her vehicle safely, which she did, and when Myla saw that Emily was gone. She felt relief. She looked back at the door as they loaded the truck with silver. She now felt like that chapter of her life was permanently put to rest. She no longer feared Jimmy... or any of the men she imagined would come after her. Myla felt liberated. 

The three of them loaded into Vasiliy's vehicle, and Myla saw her brother was safe. She looked at Quinlan, he had stolen many glances from her over Vasiliy's shoulder. Concern was clearly written all over his eyes. Now that she was free, and had the both of them safely next to her, Myla finally stopped fighting the drug coursing through her and passed out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I meant to get this out earlier but this chapter had some extensive editing, and I kept re-working and re-working things because I wasn't happy with it. And some family stuff managed to distract me for a day. Again, I'm sorry, I will work harder on getting chapters out sooner.
> 
> To all those who are reading, I love you, thank you so much!


	19. Vulnerable

When Vasiliy turned off the engine in the underground parking lot of the Olympian. He shared a moment of gratitude with Quinlan. Vasiliy had never liked the man, nor thought he needed to be around... but this night had proved him wrong.

“If you hadn’t saved us back there... I don’t know how long they would’ve kept me in there. Or what they would have done to her.”

“It may surprise you to learn Myla is not as fragile as you think.”

“Yeah but... this. All that blood... she’s never seen that much blood, you know?”

“She’s a fighter, Mr. Fet. When I arrived, there were only two men left. Two men, I was happy to dispatch.”

“Jesus... Myla - and that girl? They did all that?”

“I was your idea to give her the shotgun.”

“Yeah but, I thought it was the best thing to get her out a jam, you know?”

“And get her... _‘out of a jam’_ it did.”

“You think she’s going to be okay after all that? What if she relapses or... oh fuck. What do you think they did to her?”

“Are you asking me if she was violated?” Quinlan asked, his hands balled into fists at the thought. The outfit he’d seen her in was enough to beg the question who had asked her to change. But what if she had been forced?

When Vasiliy said nothing, Quinlan only answered with an answer that would soothe them both.

“My keen senses allowed me to assume that was not the case. Perhaps it had been on their agenda, but I believe Myla and her shotgun saw to that first.”

“I guess that makes me feel a bit better,” Vasiliy said. “Still, I uh - guess I owe you one.”

Quinlan looked at Vasiliy but said nothing.

They exited the vehicle. Quinlan without really thinking of Vasiliy’s reaction opened the back door and scooped up Myla into his arms. She fell gently across his chest. Underneath his coat, he could still smell the stench of blood. Her face was splattered with red too, except for her hair. It had been protected by the false hair she wore. The wig had been greatly tossed aside the moment they stepped out of the club.

But now she was completely helpless. And Quinlan was eager to carry her inside.

Vasiliy looked at Quinlan a bit perplexed as the half-vampire carried his sister. But Quinlan paid no attention, he only tightened his grip on the back of her knee as he was reluctant to give her away.

Quinlan looked at the floor and made his way to the elevator with Vasiliy close behind. They had made off with a large amount of silver. Quinlan knew that would make Myla happy. He didn’t know how any of this was going to affect her... and he wasn’t sure why it worried him so much. Her brother had just expressed his concerns, and Quinlan often took pride in not feeling human sentiment. But he was both confused and proud that he felt a certain need to worry about Myla.

They had known each other for a short time, but she had treated him as an equal from the beginning. Her warm smile had been welcoming... and perhaps at one point the only reason he had come back to this place.

There were no more reasons to deny he felt something for this girl. Something foreign, something he’d denied himself again and again... something so fleeting that he was fearful to ever fall prey to it again. He had already confided in her that he didn’t wish to be alone... he just hadn’t expected so much human sentiment to come with it.

Quinlan looked down at her and couldn't help but share Vasiliy’s feelings.

They rode silently in the elevator. Vasiliy only now noticing it was Quinlan’s coat wrapped around his sister. Vasiliy knew she wasn’t wearing the clothing she had come in. He had been the one to pack her bag full of silver and place her clothes in the front zip pocket. He didn’t want to know what she was wearing, he was just grateful Quinlan had given her his coat.

Quinlan set Myla down on her bed. She didn’t seem to stir or even realize where she was. She was just in a deep and dreamless sleep - Quinlan hoped she was at peace for the time being.

Quinlan met with Setrakian and Fet in the common area. Or the living area. He wasn’t sure what this was, but it was where they gathered night after night as they tried to decipher the Lumen.

Neither Quinlan or Vasiliy said much about what had transpired that night. But Setrakian looked relieved when they were back safely. The bags full of silver helped ease his mood too, but even he knew they had been through enough of an ordeal that it was best they get some rest and begin again in the morning.

So Setrakian retired to his room, and Vasiliy took up another, but not before Vasiliy said goodnight to a still unconscious Myla.

Quinlan had overheard Vasiliy’s sentiment, though he had whispered it to Myla, Quinlan had found it hard to ignore anything going on in that room. Quinlan had been paying close attention to Myla’s slow but steady heartbeat, some part of him afraid of its abnormal pace. He found it easier to relax in his chair once Myla’s rhythm returned to a regular pace.

It had only been a sedative... and nothing more.

It was an hour later when he heard her sobbing and her heart racing. He came into her room to find her rid of his coat and trying to free herself from the bloodied garments she still wore.

Myla looked up at him and seemed to remember that moment of death they had shared several hours ago, but when she looked at him, her heart slowed. Quinlan felt strange knowing he had that effect on her, but he felt a swell of feelings rise in his chest and that only made him realize she cared for him too.

He’d made this promise to himself multiple times, and here he was again ready to feel human. It was like he couldn’t hold back his human self, no matter how long he was isolated or how hurt he'd become over the loss of his loved ones. He always seemed to crave a little bit of his humanity. He knew if he gave in completely there was no telling if he would ever be the same.

In an effort to ease her distress, Quinlan left to turn on the shower and had returned before Myla had even noticed he had gone.

Quinlan lifted her up to a standing position, he could tell her legs were weak so he held onto her while she unclasped the garment at her waist. She was shedding her clothes in front of him a second time, but this time it was much more than intimacy they were sharing. This was trust.

Of all the beauty he had seen in the world, he found this moment to be one of his favorites.

She let him tear the garment that covered her chest, the clasps and buttons were proving to tedious for either of them to bother with. Soon the garment was in a pile on the floor.

Myla felt self-conscious. she hadn’t expected to wake up covered in someone else blood. She hadn't meant to freak out over it either... but she knew she had to look a mess. She covered herself as she burrowed herself against Quinlan’s chest. The previous night was coming back to her, in fragments, but coming back.

Myla had taken two years to try and get over a memory of Alec. And killing him all over again should have sent her reeling into a depression. But instead, it made her feel validated. Alec had wrapped his hands around her neck to kill her... much like the night two years ago he had tried to choke her too. The man was dead, it was a fate he deserved - Quinlan had taught her that.

While thoughts rolled through her head, Myla vaguely felt Quinlan picking her up. He carried her straight into the shower, he hadn’t even bothered to remove his own clothes.

Quinlan didn’t care even though he hated wet clothing. The look on her face was worth the wet clothes. The moment the water cascaded over her hair was evidence of that. He knew this look. It was rebirth.

While she ran her hands through her hair, Quinlan held onto her waist to support her weight. He watched her vigorously scrub her scalp and rub her palms against her body as she tried to rid the dried blood from her skin. He saw her look at the empty shelves and frown before he realized what she wanted.

Quinlan left the shower for a moment. He grabbed the soap he had seen her pick up the other day. She had run out of shampoo and been happy to stuff some into her backpack before they had arrived at the club. Before getting back into the glass shower, Quinlan stripped himself of his clothing. He saw the relieved look on her face when she saw the bottle in his had.

He pressed himself closer to her to give support as she opened the bottle and poured almost its entire contents into her hands. He watched the lathered soap turn pink and wash away what was left of the blood. He felt Myla press against him and his hands went to her arms, then to her head, helping her wash away the previous night.

Suddenly he felt odd, and out of place for washing her hair.

“I’ve never done this before,” he said softly.

Myla looked at him. His words had broken some tension harbored within her, he was pulling her away from those thoughts.

“Really? You’ve never washed someone’s hair?”

“Never,” Quinlan said. “There was a dog once... but I more or less tossed him in the river. His stench was distracting.”

Myla pulled herself forward, almost laughing, but not quite as she put her hands on his chest. She palmed his arms, then her hands made their way to his scalp. Part of her wished she could wash away the scars of his battles, just as he was doing to her.

“That hardly counts,” Myla said with a smile. She looked him over with admiration before hugging him closely.

The water had run clear for some time now, but Myla was still firmly pressed against him. Quinlan half wondered if she had fallen asleep against his shoulder.

“Should we get out?” he asked.

Myla looked up and nodded. It seemed their sweet moment had passed. Now the look of fatigue had come over her, and Quinlan was more than eager to help her out of the shower. He picked up a towel off the counter and wrapped her in it, before taking one for himself.

Myla leaned against the counter as he quickly toweled off, she felt better having showered, not just from being free of the blood, but there was a new found vigor within her. Perhaps it was the vibrant scent of her soap... maybe it was the admiration she had for the man bending over to pick up his clothes. He hadn’t cared to wrap a towel around him, nudity being a fairly normal concept to him. Myla felt a flush against her cheeks as she admired his backside.

When Quinlan looked up, he found Myla’s eyes glued to him. She was sitting on the counter now, her legs slightly parted which caused him to glance at what was still beneath the towel, but he couldn’t help but see the bruises forming on her skin, especially the marks around her neck.

Quinlan still made no attempt to cover himself as he took two small steps toward the bathroom counter. His hands went to her knees, and Myla let the towel fall behind her as Quinlan scanned the rest of the damage to her body.

“Did they do this to you?” he asked quietly.

“Probably more my doing.” Myla said hoarsely, “They... didn’t hurt me. They tried to humiliate me by making me dance. Getting my gun probably did most of this damage...” Myla’s mind began to wander again, she was trying not to picture how the shotgun cut through some of the men like they were paper. “I’m really glad you showed up.”

“It seemed our time spent on the roof taught you well.”

“I don’t think I would have survived if you hadn’t showed up,” she said. “You saw them.”

Quinlan touched her neck. Myla still winced at his light touch. But he leaned in and gently kissed her bruised neck anyway. The marks all across her body showed her commitment to this fight. His fight. He’d never fought the Master with someone he cared about at his side... at least not someone he cared about in this way.

He barely pulled away from her before she had leaned in for another kiss. Their lips met for a moment and Quinlan brought his hand to her chin. He hadn’t expected her to deepen the kiss, but she did. She nipped at his lower lip until she could meet his tongue with her own. Then she reached her hands up and around his neck to pull him closer to her until they were only inches apart. Quinlan gripped the towel and pulled it forward. Most of her weight rested on it, and with one tug their bodies were flush against one another.

He was careful to avoid her bruises, but he couldn’t help but give her backside a good squeeze when his hands got there. Then they were a mess. His hands were in her hair, and she was practically lifting herself off the counter and into his chest. Her was breathing was heavy against his neck, the sensation for him was more than arousing.

It took him less than a second to press her knees down to the countertop and thrust himself inside her.

The whimper she made pulled a thin smile across his face.

Quinlan was attempting to be gentle with her, he hadn’t expected her to want him at such a late hour, he had expected to put her right back to bed...

But now here she was, spread beneath him and coming completely unraveled at his touch.

One of Quinlan’s hands slid out of her hair and down her chest to play with a very pert nipple. The hot shower and the chill from the air no doubt causing both nipples to stand erect. He teased one, and then the other, a small pinch and a flick from his finger was enough to drive her wild, he knew that about her, but he enjoyed her reaction just as much as she enjoyed the ministration.

He was keeping a slow yet steady pace as he thrust into her, enjoying all the small noises she made for him.

Myla knew he was holding back. She had spent enough nights with Quinlan to know that the man was... well a complete animal when it came to their hidden trysts. He was going slower... easier on her, but tenderness was not something he was accustomed to. Even the slow pace was still being met with a driving force... one that filled her core until it was completely full - and just when she thought she might burst... he’d pull away from her, and start the slow thrusting process all over again.

Though, she knew quite well what he was capable of... and being beneath a man with such power, was utterly thrilling. It didn’t matter what pace he kept, he was always the one in control... he always able to bring her so close to absolution, and then pull away at the last minute. His gentle actions were only a reminder that at any moment he could completely ruin her.

Despite all that, Myla’s tongue still made its way to his earlobe. She wasn’t shy when she begged him for more.

“Please... Quinlan, I need... _more.”_

Her request had managed to send a thrill past his stinger and deep into his core. He’d never felt more human than he did with her... she had this way of coaxing it out of him. Whether she was spread naked for him to see, or looking up at the stars and asking him to name constellations.

She was everything he had been trying to avoid. Perhaps his strength in denying his human self had backfired on him because now all those human feelings came rushing back to him. He was vulnerable for her, just as she was to him the first night they shared together.

Quinlan picked her up. Myla instinctively wrapped her legs around Quinlan. He stayed inside her as he carried her to the next room. He managed to lay them both down before he lifted her hips into the optimal position. He pulled out once and thrust back into her, Myla’s back immediately arched against his torso, she inhaled sharply, he could tell she had wanted to cry out but was doing her best to bite her bottom lip to keep quiet. Just a few more quick thrusts and she was shaking beneath him... but he didn’t want her to go just yet.

Quinlan picked up her head and brought it to his own. He took that bottom lip of hers into his own mouth. And once more they were tangled in a breathless kiss. Not wanting to break away from the kiss, Quinlan positioned Myla into his lap. his hands still helped work her hips, lifting her slightly as he thrust up into her. Now their faces could kiss as much as they pleased.

“I’m...” came as a whisper from Myla’s lips.

She didn’t even have to say anything else. He was there with her. Determined that they would both meet their release, Quinlan upped his pace. The change within Myla was instant... her head fell away from his face. Then he felt every inch of her convulse around his body - her arms clung to him, every part of her was like a vice grip. He held her against him for two more deep thrusts before he finished inside of her.

It all happened in one breathless moment, but as she lifted her head to look at him. He vowed he would never let her go.

* * *

They both awoke in a tangle of arms and legs. Myla had fallen asleep shortly after their ordeal together, but Quinlan had only shut his eyes for the last twenty minutes or so. Myla smiled to wake up in the crook of his shoulder. It was a warm and safe place she wanted to stay in forever.

“Morning,” she grumbled.

Quinlan looked down at her. Her hair was in complete disarray, her bruises were darker, but she was as happy as ever.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“I feel good,” she said, still afraid to leave his body and face the cool air. “Do we have to get up?”

“Not now. But soon.”

“Good,” she said as she nuzzled against his side.

“We have much to do, your brother spoke of a nest at the Park.”

“Yeah, he seemed hell-bent on getting himself killed,” Myla said.

“We all have a purpose here. Your brother is much like you, he’s a fighter. Some men can sense a destiny larger than themselves.”

“Like you?” Myla asked.

“Yes, much like me,” Quinlan admitted.

“What happens when all this is over?” Myla asked.

“You mean what happens if we succeed in imprisoning the Master?” Quinlan asked.

“Which we will.” Myla interrupted. “We will win this,” she assured him. “But then what?”

“I’ve been confronted by your question once before when I thought I had killed him. And I came to you.”

“Yes, and now that you have me, what will you do with me? Show me Rome? How about Greece?”

“We could head to Egypt, Cairo is lovely this time of year,” he said.

Myla giggled. “Was that _a joke?”_ she asked.

“Does your laughter mean I’m getting better at socializing?” He asked.

Myla giggled as she nodded her head. “Oh yes, you’re a natural. I find it hard to believe you find a city lovely.”

“I find you lovely,” he said softly as he dragged his thumb across her bottom lip.

Myla was stunned at his choice of words. She smiled a bashful smile and leaned over the rest of his body so she could kiss him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that got unexpectedly fluffy. I suppose I just wanted one of these chapters because the other half of this story is going to get darker. Hopefully, no one finds it too OOC, Q is a difficult character to write! Anyways, thanks again for reading.


	20. Meaning

Quinlan sat at the counter flipping through Myla’s organized folders. She had a unique perspective, one which he and the professor did not share. He was thumbing a note she had made about the eyes found on each page. _“...as many eyes and as many tongues as there are men on earth.”_

_“What could she mean?” Quinlan asked himself._

“I’m on my way,” Vasiliy said.

Vasiliy entered the main room. He had a packed bag and looked like he hadn’t slept at all that night.

“You’ll be leaving then?” Quinlan asked.

“Yeah, my trackers helped us find a nest. It’s a big one, and we’re going to try and take it out tonight.”

“At the park?” Quinlan asked. “Perhaps you should ask Myla for her help. She wants -”

“She’s not coming. I’ve never liked the possibility of her getting hurt and after last night... it’s just not something I want to risk.”

“Then perhaps you should at least talk to her. Or her physical injuries may become outweighed by an emotional one.” Quinlan said as he returned his gaze to the paperwork at the table.

“What the hell do you know?” Vasiliy asked, as his fist slammed down on the table. “I watched you carry her in, acting like you two are friends or something. You can pretend all you want, but you don’t know my sister - you can’t. You’re just some freak she takes pity on.”

Quinlan was unfazed by Vasiliy’s comment. He knew Myla had spoken of traveling with him only a few hours ago... and their relationship was hardly platonic at this point, and Quinlan was confident in how Myla felt about him. After all, she had been the one to pursue him.

“I’m only insinuating that you serve her the same courtesy. She worries about your well being when your gone, perhaps a simple goodbye from time to time may soothe her.”

Vasiliy closed the distance between them, anger was written all over his face.

“I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but let me remind you. You’re still a half muncher - and don't like you.  
Don’t try to understand my sister, in fact, stay the hell away from her, and maybe I won’t have to kill you.”

Vasiliy’s fist was balled, finger pointed in Quinlan’s face.

“Perhaps I overlooked saving you both,” Quinlan said in an attempt to remind Vasiliy of what he owed him. “Perhaps I should have let you bury her in that tunnel.”

Vasiliy grabbed at Quinlan’s shirt, his anger was clearly in control now. Quinlan made no move, he didn’t have too, nor did he want to. He had provoked Vasiliy, and he wasn’t about to hurt Myla by hurting her brother.

Vasiliy quickly realized who he was talking to when Quinlan hadn’t even flinched. There was no fear in his eyes, and Vasiliy knew this was no fight he could win. He quickly pulled away from Quinlan and retreated into the next room. Quinlan felt satisfied when he heard Vasiliy open the door to Myla’s room.

The two of them talked for a short while. Then he heard Vasiliy pick up his bag and leave.

When Quinlan went in to check on Myla she looked content. It was a look Quinlan didn’t expect considering the state she was in. Her bruises were now a dark purple color, she was painted from head to toe.

She managed a small hello, as she tried to get out of bed. Quinlan was quick to pick up her feet and place them back into bed.

“You should be resting,” he told her.

“If Vasiliy can work, I can work,” Myla said.

“There is no more adrenaline in your system... no more chemical distractions. I only think you will cause yourself more pain by getting up.”

“Aren’t you the one who keeps calling me tough?” Myla asked.

“Your endurance is impressive, but your pain is another story.”

Myla picked up a bottle of pills from her bedside and gave them a shake.

“There are things that can be done about that,” Myla said. She poured out two small pills and popped them into her mouth.

“Is that safe?”

“Yes, I promise,” Myla said, almost disappointed the bottle said ibuprofen. She took Quinlan’s hand in hers and he helped her the rest of the way out of bed.

Damn. _She was sore._ She pointed at a pair of pants and Quinlan was quick to help her into them. He stopped midway through her thighs when he noticed a palm-shaped bruise forming on her outer thigh. He tentatively touched the mark, now sick to think of where it came from.

“That’s from you,” Myla said helping him pull her pants the rest of the way up.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“I asked for it,” Myla said licking her bottom lip and flashing him a smile. “Not exactly your fault.”

“I meant to be careful... you were hurt,” Quinlan said.

Myla kissed him quickly to pull him away from any negative thoughts.

“You... gave me exactly what I needed,” Myla said.

“Pain can be... pleasurable for you?” Quinlan asked.

“When it comes along with need,” Myla said slipping a t-shirt over her head.

Myla wandered out into the hall, Quinlan Followed behind her shutting the door.

“You know he told me to stay away from you,” Myla said when she reached the kitchen. “Said you’ve been paying too much attention to me, and that I should watch out for you.”

“Did he?” Quinlan asked.

“I’m guessing he may not like the idea of us...” Myla said. She grabbed the coffee pot, giving it a small rinse before placing it back in the machine. She threw in a coffee filter and some grounds before she hit brew.

“You had to guess that?” Quinlan asked folding his arms against his chest.

“No,” Myla said, “I guess I didn’t.”

“Does it bother you?” Quinlan asked, feeling odd he had felt so confident taking to Vasiliy.

Myla smiled. “No. It doesn’t bother me,” Myla even chuckled to herself, “I think you two are a lot alike actually. It’s too bad he’s so...”

“A creaturist, I believe is the term he used.”

“Sure. Whatever that is.” Myla said. Out of her back pocket, Myla pulled her blue vial. She hadn’t realized she had been carrying around an empty vial this whole time. There wasn’t anything left for her to put in her coffee this morning.

Quinlan watched her throw the vial away and saw nothing. Neither of them knew what would happen to Myla when she stopped her treatment... no one had really wanted to find out but now here they were. Quinlan couldn’t help but realize her immunity had been one of the reason’s he’d let his guard down. He didn’t think he’d ever have to watch her turn like he had with Louisa.

But now here she was sipping her cup of coffee, grimacing at the bitter taste, and with her bruises, she had never looked more fragile than she did now.

* * *

“What do you mean it was a trap?” Myla asked.

“More like a distraction, it seems,” Quinlan said.

Vasiliy sat covered in scrapes and bruises. He hadn’t spoken much since he’d been back. But Myla could read his face, and Quinlan had noticed the disturbance amongst his own senses.

Setrakian was unfazed. It didn’t shock him that Vasily’s stunt in Central Park had been a guise all along. But what did it all mean?

“He’s doing something... planning something,” Setrakian said.

“What about Palmer?” Myla asked. “Maybe he’s still willing to trade information.”

“What do you mean? Palmer’s working for them.” Vasiliy said.

“Then... why would he pull the funds at the auction?” Myla asked.

Vasiliy and Setrakian looked up at her, confused.

“Eichorst’s funds were rescinded that day, by Palmer himself.”

“I thought you clicked off the line?” Vasiliy asked.

“I did. After Palmer gave work Eichorst had no right to the account.”

“So... Palmer... from the beginning?” Setrakian said. “He’s wanted the white for some time...”

“Perhaps Mr. Fet we should take a ride.” Setrakian said.

* * *

 

WEST 15th STREET, MANHATTAN

The state of the city was in terrible condition, with the safety zone’s gone, thieves and strix ran free, killing each other.

Myla’s hand went to Quinlan’s when she saw a woman get shot in the street. The four of them drove to an underpass in Brooklyn. They waited in silence until Eldritch Palmer’s SUV drove up silently, turning its lights off.

“Wait here,” Vasiliy said.

Setrakian and Vasiliy exited the vehicle. Quinlan would have exited with them, but he felt that shocking an old man wouldn’t help their cause. So he stayed where he wanted beside Myla and gripped her hand even tighter. She smiled at him and he couldn’t help but wish they were sitting close to one another.

The weak old man was slow to exit the vehicle, he met Vasiliy and Setrakian in a wheelchair. He looked much worse than Myla remember when she had first met the man. She remembered being disgusted by the man’s display of wealth. It hadn’t helped when Vasiliy told her about how Palmer had paved the way for this whole plague to happen.

Myla watched the Professor hand Palmer a vial of white.

How strange to see her medication was gone, and someone else started anew.

“Why would he give him that?” Myla whispered.

“Perhaps Palmer has offered some information of use to us. Keeping him alive only furthers the potential for a trade in information.”

“Like he’s our double agent? Working for us but on the inside?” Myla said.

“I suppose,” Quinlan stated.

She clutched his hand tighter.

Vasiliy and Setrakian came back to the car. Both of them were silent, and Myla was quick to separate her grasp from Quinlan before the lights in the car came on.

It was an uncomfortable separation, but Myla didn’t want to start a fight with Vasiliy.

“A boat came in from Egypt,” Vasiliy said. “Palmer doesn’t know what’s on it. But Setrakian suspects it’s one of the old world ancients.”

“Palmer is sure of this?” Quinlan asked.

“No. Palmer isn’t sure of anything,” Setrakian said. “Palmer only told us of the ship. And after Myla found that passage in the Lumen... I could only assume.”

Myla thought back to the image of the entombed being in the Egyptian Sarcophagus. The pages dedicated to the ancients had been more haunting than the images of the eyes. She had imagined one of these odd looking creatures somehow being Quinlan’s father.

The car ride back to the Olympian was a quiet one, each individual was deep in thought. Myla only just realized Quinlan’s hand was still between them. Myla slipped her hand under his once again. The silence didn’t bother Myla as much as it did now that she held his hand.

When they arrived at the Olympian, an argument had started to arises between all three men.

Professor Setrakian had accused Vasiliy’s attack on Central Park as a play into the Master’s plan. Vasily had defended his plan because he had killed thousands of Strigoi. But the professor knew that a significant number of human soldiers had died in the process. Setrakian had expected the number of civilian casualties, but Vasiliy hadn’t. The soldier’s killed haunted Vasiliy more than he would like to admit.

He hadn’t even mentioned Kate. Vasiliy had liked her, a lot. But Kate didn’t ask to see him again. They had had their time together... and they had been proud to destroy the nest together - but after Central Park was overrun, Kate had blamed Vasiliy and Justine Feraldo for their failure. She had left her post, deserting the army, and most of all, deserting Vasiliy.

Their bickering hadn’t stopped until Quinlan had mentioned Vasiliy’s rash decision to blow the Strigoi tunnels trapping his sister.

This had made Vasiliy mad.

Myla watched as her brother tore into Quinlan’s relations with Strigoi. Vasiliy accused him of feeding on humans and helping the plague that Setrakian and Vasiliy fought against.

“That’s not fair Vas.”

“Not Fair?!” he said. “It’s true, we can’t trust him, he’s proved that to us by stealing the Lumen. Just because he’s saved your life before doesn’t take away that treachery,”

“But he’s proved his worth after the fact,” Myla said.

“That doesn’t matter to me,” Vasiliy said. “Once a traitor always a-”

“That’s bullshit!” Myla said.

Quinlan once again was awed at her defense of him. Even though their relationship had grown into something more since she had last defended him, it still surprised him that she would fight her own brother for his reputation.

“He’s one of them,” Vasiliy said.

“Would the new world ancients know what their brothers are up to?” Setrakian asked Quinlan.

Myla noticed the way Quinlan’s neck strained at the mention of the ancients. Vasiliy looked like he expected an answer.

“I’d prefer not to go back there,” Quinlan said.

“You’re the only one that can speak with them,” Setrakian said.

Quinlan made no reply.

“See he doesn’t even want to help us!” Vasiliy asked. “He should prove it to us now, he should talk to his kind... find out if these other ancients have made some sort of deal with the Master,” Vasiliy said.

Quinlan was still silent. He had no intention of ever seeing those wretched beings again.

“You’re right,” Myla said.

Setrakian, Quinlan, and Vasiliy looked at her, confused.

“Quinlan should speak to them. Our lives could depend on it.” Myla said. She glanced at Quinlan. She didn’t like the stern look on his face. But she couldn’t help that Vasiliy was right.

“But he shouldn’t have to go alone,” Myla said.

“I’m not going to that place,” Vasiliy said.

“I wasn’t talking about you,” Myla said.

Vasiliy glanced at the floor and then to his sister, finally realizing was she was asking.

“No, hell no!” Vasiliy said. “The last time we followed one of your plans I was locked in a vault for hours!”

“And the last time we followed one of yours I ended up buried underneath concrete!” Myla yelled.

Vasiliy looked away. Shame filled his head, and he couldn’t look at his sister.  
“I’ll go with you,” Myla said. “We will find out what’s in that box.”

“No,” Vasiliy said once more. “Look at you. You’re black and blue. You shouldn’t have come with us tonight-”

“Vas... with all due respect I can handle this, you have no right to assume what sort of state I’m in. I’ve handled worse. A few bruises are something I can handle. This... this is important.” Myla said.

“Then I’ll go,” Setrakian said. “I had an idea that could persuade the ancients to work on our side... if we could get them to agree to fight - “

“Then we get them to agree -” Myla interrupted. “They fear you, Professor, because you have read the Lumen... you should stay and read about the box in Egypt. Quinlan can speak to them and should inquire about an alliance... Vasiliy...”

Myla paused, silence filling the hall. This place was a safe haven for her and the others... but she didn’t like that she was about to tell Vasiliy how she felt about Quinlan.

Part of her wanted to scream at her brother that Quinlan cared about the human cause more than he did about any other Strigoi agenda. Quinlan wouldn’t have shared his thoughts with Myla, let alone intimacy with her if he hadn’t cared about their cause.

Right?

“...you should stay with the professor.” Myla finished. She didn’t know what else her brother could do besides sitting with the professor like she had done for the last few weeks. Perhaps Vasiliy would gain a new understanding of the work the Professor was doing if he sat around reading the translated pages... maybe his mind would change.

“If that’s okay with you Quinlan,” Myla added.

Quinlan took a moment, but he nodded at her request. He didn’t like the idea of bringing Myla before the ancients. But she was right, they needed answers and he wouldn’t mind a friend at his side when he came crawling back to them.

* * *

Myla hadn’t said another word to her brother and he hadn’t said anything to her. Vasiliy had only dropped his backpack in the hallway and left to join the professor in the other room.

Myla had looked at Quinlan. Their eyes met, but she could sense his apprehension.

“It will be for the best,” she said.

Quinlan nodded and headed for the elevator. Myla followed her bag already packed from leaving to meet Palmer this afternoon.

They soon found themselves in the underground level, Myla took out the keys to the SUV they had originally arrived in weeks ago before climbing into the driver's seat. Quinlan ended up int he passenger seat, still silent.

“Where am I headed?” she asked him.

“Upper east side,” Quinlan said. “72nd. Near the Hospital.”

Myla said nothing more as she drove them to their destination. She wanted to know why Quinlan didn’t want to go back there. She wanted to know who the ancients really were. She wanted to know if they would be in danger.

But they said nothing as she drove, that is until Myla was close to their destination.

“Here.” Quinlan said, “Stop.”

Myla pulled over near an abandoned subway station.

“This was closed even before the Master she said. Even before I left town.”

“There is a reason for that,” Quinlan said. “You can stay here.”

“No.,” she said. “I want to come.”

“It’s not safe. It’s...”

“I’m sure it’s not anything I would expect.” Myla exited the vehicle and met Quinlan’s side. “But I want to go with you. I’m in this with you,” she said.

Somehow that declaration was enough to allow her to accompany him into the abandoned railway. They followed a dead subway track until they found an open room. Another hundred paces and Myla could smell the stench of stale blood. It had been something she had tried to rid herself of the other night... it wasn’t pleasant. It was metallic and bold.

Soon they were met with a shadowed figure. Myla was fearful at first until a railway light had illuminated the man’s face to be pale and calm. He reminded her of Quinlan, and his garb clearly indicated this man was a Sun Hunter.

“I’m here to see them,” Quinlan said.

“And you brought a human for collateral.” Lar’s said. “They will be pleased.”

“I doubt they will find her appetizing,” Quinlan said flatly. “She is a friend, not a meal for the ancients.”

Lars looked Myla up and down. Myla tried to figure out what this ‘Lars’ could be guarding.

“When you last stepped out of this chamber you vowed never to return,” Lars said.

“Much has changed,” Quinlan said. “I have a question and perhaps a warning.”

Lars took a moment to ponder Quinlan’s proposition. But considering the state of New York and the ongoing threat of the Master, Lars must have assumed that Quinlan’s proposition was worth listening to.

Soon, the two of them were lead to a large chamber where Myla was in fact shocked by what she saw. A large pool of blood indicated that she had been smelling what could only have been considered as a feeding chamber.

Several soft orange lights illuminated the figured before them. Three Ancients stood attached to pedestals. Though their figured were frail they seemed proud.

After the three ancients recognized Lars and Quinlan’s presence, Quinlan wasted no time in asking questions.

“A few days ago the master arranged for a piece of cargo to arrive in New York from Egypt by ship. In the lumen an army of Egyptians managed to seal one of your kind in a box, is it possible the master arranged to bring that very same ancient to the new world?”

Myla felt a chill run down her spine as she saw the three ancients twist and contort themselves, clearly, they were uncomfortable by Quinlan’s question.

“It is a possibility,” Lars answered.

“Perhaps the master has formed an alliance with one of your kind,” Quinlan paused, choosing his next words carefully. He chose to attempt to get a reaction out of the stationary beings. “Do you know what that means that he has not sought the same with you?” Quinlan smiled at his next comment, “It means he intends to do away with you.”

Myla saw the creatures become angry again. Their tall frame and long fingers were enough to startle her back into her nightmares where she now recognized their eyes. They glared down at Quinlan, and for a moment - they looked at her. Quinlan paid no attention to their glance, he wanted their attention back on him.

“The professor has a plan...”

“We do not trust the pawnbroker.”

“Then, I wish you a speedy day.” Quinlan spat back, he turned quickly, his arm grabbed Myla’s elbow.

“But we could trust her,” Lars said.

Quinlan looked at Myla and turned around. In defense he used his body to block their view of Myla.

“What do you mean?” Quinlan asked intensely.

“If the Pawnbroker plans to use a silver child we might be willing to listen to his plan.”

Quinlan looked back at Myla. Neither of them understood what the ancients meant. But Myla didn’t intend to ask them.

“I'm afraid it required you to get down off those pedestals and go after something other than a human captive meal,” Quinlan said. “It would not involve the girl in the slightest.”

“Then why did you bring her?” Lars asked.

“She is a soldier, fighting the Master, unlike you three,” Quinlan stated.

“She’s more useful than a soldier,” Lars said.

Quinlan locked eyes with all four opposing parties, Myla did too.

“She’s not for your use,” Quinlan said, emphasizing on his threatening tone. If they thought they could drink her, they had another thing coming.

“We don’t intend to make her a meal,” Lars responded.

Both Myla and Quinlan were intrigued. But Quinlan, still protective was not ready to negotiate any sort of need for someone he cared about.

“I assure you three, the girl is not for negotiation. Should you choose to fight, things can change for your livelihood. But with the master plotting to bring more of your kind we should be wary of any sort of peace.”

“We are aware of the repercussions should he choose to bring them here,” Lars said. “We could hide. And remove ourselves from their sight.”

“What would that solve?” Quinlan spat. “This has been your war for a long time. You three have chosen not to fight it. Humanity has been paying the price for your sin for too long. We offer help - but it is time you do something about your existence and end your brother’s reign.”

Myla still hid behind Quinlan. She didn’t like catching their gaze... she could almost smell their fear when Quinlan referred to the master. In her mind, she couldn’t help but make connections. Images of these three... no six - across the world, ruling humanity from the shadows. The stories her mother had told her were real... and much scarier than she had ever meant them to be.

Myla feared for her life. She feared for Quinlan’s. She didn’t know how he could remain composed when near such  
creatures.

“We will listen.” was all Lars said.

“Good,” Quinlan said. “I’ll return tonight with instructions. Luckily my current associates are accustomed to dealing with undesirable partners.”

Without another word, Quinlan turned away and lead Myla out of the tunnel with him. His urgency seemed to worry her. The last time she had felt this drive from his was when he was leading her out of pitch-black strigoi infested tunnels.

When they reached the New York City surface Myla took in a breath of fresh air, free from the metallic stench they had just endured.

“We must leave,” Quinlan said. “Now.”

Myla got to the car, both of them jumped in.

“Why you think they will follow us?” she asked.

“No. The ancients do not leave their place of safety. Their fascination with you is what concerns me.”

“Was that... Lars a Sun Hunter?” Myla asked.

“Yes.”

“Then why would he come after me... they go after humans... food... I’m... not edible.” Myla said.

“You would be lethal to someone like them,” Quinlan said.

“Then... why are you worried?”

“They seemed to understand something that neither of us didn't.”

“You didn’t tell them our plan,” Myla added.

“I will come back tonight,” Quinlan said. “But I did not feel comfortable speaking to them while you are there.”

“I take it you’re not letting me come back with you.” Myla said.

“No.” Quinlan said simply.

Myla didn’t feel like arguing with Quinlan. Going at it with Vasiliy was enough conflict for her and she didn’t want to agitate the man was sleeping with.

She didn’t pry while they drove back to the Olympian. She figured Quinlan had no real answers... but perhaps the Lumen would.

When they parked in the Underground, Quinlan was waiting for her to reach the elevator before he hit the call button. The elevator made its way towards them in a crawl. Myla turned to Quinlan and took his hand.

“We will beat him,” she said. “With or without them.”

Quinlan turned to her. His face read uncertainty. He was worried this morning that she would become vulnerable. But now he could see it and feel it after their meeting with the ancients. This girl had pulled him close enough to care... and now he had to deal with the fear of failure. He didn’t want to lose this girl. And she didn’t want to lose him. But all they could do to comfort one another before they entered the elevator was squeeze one another’s hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays you guys! More to come soon! Let me know how you guys are liking the chapters so far. I recently went through the earlier chapters and edited a lot of content! So that's why it took me so long, I spent a week editing content, can't wait to continue the story, it will deviate from the show and become its own entity. 
> 
> <3<3<3  
> luv you guys.


	21. Loss

Myla found herself in the kitchen cooking dinner, again.

She had mulled over her copied chapters of the Lumen for any sort of clue as to why the Ancients would be interested in someone they couldn’t eat - but she had only been able to understand that they had been alive since the beginning of whatever the hell this was. There wasn’t much about them other than that they used sun hunters to do their bidding. The sun hunters could be controlled and influenced by the ancients, so much so that the sun hunters were perceived as invaluable to the ancients survival. No wonder Quinlan had crossed paths with them on multiple occasions.

Myla was so engrossed in flipping between the pages with the silver coin and the drawn eyes that she didn’t realize she was burning the meal she had been cooking.

She quickly pulled the pan off the stove and tried to remedy the soup. Perhaps the Professor would eat tonight, but she might not.

She pretended not to notice when Quinlan had picked up his sword. He had been sitting at the counter while she cooked, he too was looking for answers within the poorly photocopied pages.

She didn’t want him to go back. She didn’t want him to leave her here. But she forced herself to understand that it was for the best.

Quinlan gave her a nod before leaving. He didn’t say goodbye, but Myla supposed she didn’t want him to. She didn’t want there to be a goodbye between them.

It slightly pained him to leave her knowing she wanted to be by his side, but he had more questions than ever... and he felt like the Master was close. Though they were still unsure of the form he had taken, Quinlan couldn’t help but feel like something was about to happen.

* * *

“What did they say exactly?” The professor asked.

“That they could trust me,” Myla said with a shrug of her shoulders.

All they could do was thumb back and forth through pages. The ancients had many allies over the course of time. Those that would protect them... those who would hunt for them... but Myla couldn’t do either.

Her gut told her that it had to do with the page of slaves. The silver coin was the only thing she could relate to. Her aunt’s coin collection had been one of the reasons she sought out a detox center that specialized in alternative medicine. Colloidal silver had been her savior a year ago and still was up until this morning.

She looked at the pale bodies of the men and women at the feet of the ancients. A cold shiver managed to run down her spine.

The paragraph below the illustration was small and left untranslated. The professor had given it to Quinlan who had only read it, not translated it.

“Professor, can you translate this page?”

Setrakian looked at the page, he remembered thinking it wasn’t useful to them. But considering the circumstances, he gave the passage another look.

“They were... servants to the ancients,” The professor paused, reading ahead, “they were servants in... various countries, they haven’t been around for thousands of years, because they lead to the demise of one of the seven.”

“That wouldn’t make sense then if they were somehow supposed to trust me,” Myla said.

“In the corner here there a hieroglyph... meaning bones of silver.” The professor took the copied page and returned to the Lumen on his desk. Flipping to the page with the Egyptian sarcophagus. “The ancient Egyptians didn’t use silver, it was rare... they adorned themselves in gold, but some believed that their bones were made out of silver.”

The professor scratched his chin before heading over to a pile of books. He rifled through them before grabbing an archaeology textbook.

“The ancient Egyptians had access to lots of gold... and ah, here it is, ‘the small amounts of silver found were reserved for royalty. Most notably the jewelry made for Queen Amenemhat II and several sarcophagi made in the 21st and 22nd dynasty.”

“Weren’t you saying the 21st Dynasty is when one of the ancients was entombed...? The very same ancient we think could have been brought here?”

“Yes, the very same. I still don’t know how you fit into all this... but perhaps the silver you took has some sort of meaning to them. The Macedonians were using silver as a medicine back in 400 BC. Perhaps the ancients found some sort of use for them.”

“Until someone locked one of them away in a silver sarcophagus. Silver... does kill them... right?”

Setrakian signed, “Sunlight could not kill the master, The Lumen says it kills strigoi, but if he could survive a beheading... who’s to say if silver really will kill him. Poison is in everything my dear, nothing is without poison. The dosage either makes it a poison or a remedy.”

Myla tilted her head and found herself pondering the professor’s wisdom. She sat on the couch, impatiently tapping her foot as she tore at a blank piece of paper.

“You’re nervous.” The professor said.

“He’s been gone a while, that’s all,” Myla said.

“Perhaps it was best Mr. Quinlan went alone. They may have something much more sinister planned and it would be unfortunate to put you at risk.”

Myla smiled at the old man as she continued to nervously maim a piece of paper.

“Perhaps you would have preferred to have gone with him?” Setrakian asked.

Myla shrugged her shoulders again. “It was... something else to see them, you know? I’ve been stung, and killed those things... but when I saw them it all became so real.”

“They do have a certain haunting nature about them.” The professor said with a sigh. “I suppose that is why you are so intrigued by Mr. Quinlan?”

“I uh -” Myla didn’t know what to really say.

“I suppose you two...” Setrakian and Myla awkwardly locked eyes and then shifted their gaze.

“I don’t know what we are,” Myla said. “He’s been very good to me - he’s saved my life twice now, and we just... grew close.”

“Perhaps he is more human then he lets on,” Setrakian said.

“Very much so,” Myla said. This time there was a hint of a smile behind her nervous gaze. “I’m going to... go to the roof to get some air.”

Myla tucked her hair behind her ear and made her exit from the room.

She took the steps to the roof, feeling that she had let Quinlan down somehow. She realized as the professor had asked her about their relationship... she couldn’t bring herself to talk about Quinlan because she was worried about him.

She stepped onto the familiar roof and studied the dark sky. It seemed so long ago that she was laying on this roof, pointing at stars.

She looked across the city and realized she could see where they had been earlier that day. Myla slumped against the door, trying to rid her mind of strigoi and Vasiliy. Then all that was left was Quinlan. Myla had never expected to spend the night with the man, let along grow close to him. But here she was... worrying about him.

“What you doing kid?”

Myla hadn’t realized Vasiliy was standing on the other side of the roof.

“Thought I’d come up here, see what it is you do all day,” he said.

“More fun when Quinlan’s here,” she said.

Vasiliy looked at her protectively his eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. “You and he uh - spend a lot of time together...”

“He did save my life, twice,” she said smugly. “Forgive me for trusting the guy.”

“So that means you gotta be friends?” Vasiliy asked.

“Yeah, right, cause he’s a ‘muncher?’ Right?” Myla asked rhetorically. “This is starting to get old, you not playing nice with others.”

“I shouldn’t have to play nice with anyone but you,” Vasiliy said.

Myla chuckled. “You could do better at that too.”

“You know... I’m trying.” Vasiliy said.

“Then do better,” Myla said. “You can stay by the professor's side, stop trying to play hero, and let's do this together. No more galavanting off to Central Park...”

Myla could tell she’d struck a nerve with the mention of the park.

“I am trying,” Vasiliy said. “After the park...”

“Yeah after the park the decision was easy,” she told him. “I’ve needed you long before that. We’ve needed you.”

“Yeah well, I’m here now. The city isn’t safe. I’m gonna protect you kid. And everyone else.”

“That just too-”

Myla was interrupted by the detonation of a large explosive. She looked across the skyline and watched as several buildings collapse along 42nd street.

Both of them watched in awe as they felt the rumble at their feet.

“That had to be... something other than dynamite... that was...” Vasiliy said, nearly speechless.

Myla brought her hand to her face in an attempt to stifle a panic. This could only have meant one thing... something with Quinlan and the Ancients had gone terribly wrong.

“I have to go.” was all she said.

Vasiliy looked at his sister, he had only seen that distraught look on her face once, and that was the first time he’d seen her since she’d been kicked out of their parents home.

“What is it?” Vasiliy asked.

“Quinlan - he - he was...”

Vasiliy looked back at the wreckage, there was no way he could have survived a blast like that. It had to be... nuclear.

When he turned around Myla had already opened the stairway door. Vasiliy followed her as quickly as he could, but could barely decent the stairs as quickly as she could. When he reached the door to the eleventh floor Myla already had her coat on.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Vasiliy asked.

“I’m going after him. He could be hurt or-”

“After that blood sucker!?” Vasiliy yelled. “Like hell you are!”

Myla ignored her brother as she grabbed several guns and ammo off a nearby table. Then she went to her room to grab her most important weapon, her sword.

“Myla you’re not listening to me!”

“No, I’m not,” she said.

“You can’t go over there, it’s nighttime, it’s structurally unsound! If that thing was nuclear you could roast yourself-”

“I don’t care!” she screamed as she picked up her sword, she strapped it to her hip and attempted to leave the room. But Vasiliy blocked her.

“What do you think you’re gonna do, huh? Help some superhuman outa this mess? I don’t think there’s anything you can do, Lulu!”

Myla stopped for a moment, almost laughing at how upset she was.

“You know, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you refer to him as human.” she spat.

“He’s not worth it, Myla,” Vasiliy said as a last stitch effort to convince her that she shouldn’t go. But then Vasiliy saw the disagreement in her eyes. It was a look that worried him... it was a look that told him there was more to the two of them.

Vasiliy still didn’t move even though Myla pushed against him.

“Let me go!” she shouted.

Vasiliy, for the first time in his life, pushed his sister. She was knocked back far enough that he had time to shut the door and lock it. And to ensure she couldn’t get the door open, Vasiliy took his piece of rebar and jammed it between the door frame and the handle.

Setrakian quickly appeared behind Vasiliy, the commotion had concerned him, now he sternly eyed Vasiliy and then the door.

“I can’t recommend this,” Setrakian said.

“You’d rather her go out there? Looking for that blood sucker?”

The professor gave him a confused look.

“That explosion. Myla said it went off wherever Quinlan was.” Vasiliy tried to explain.

This only made the situation worse. If the ancients weren’t on their side... perhaps they were working with the Master or perhaps it had been a trap to do away with their most valuable warrior. The professor knew it wasn’t safe for her to leave at this hour, but he actually agreed with Myla’s rescue attempt.

The two of them left the door to Myla’s room and went to the kitchen. The professor poured a glass of scotch for him and for Vasiliy.

It took an hour, but the professor poured Vasiliy another drink, then another. Soon Vasiliy was drunk and ranting about Central Park and his sister, even Vasiliy now expected his sister had some sort of ‘crush’ on Quinlan. Vasiliy, unlike the professor, had no idea that her feelings were returned. The professor slipped away for only a moment to remove the piece of rebar jammed between the door.

Vasiliy hadn’t noticed the professor had left. Setrakian didn't say anything to Myla, only slipped back into the kitchen to monitor Vasiliy.

Myla heard the rebar hit the floor, and at first, she was hesitant to try and open the door. For the last hour, she had been trying to hold back all her emotions and remain calm. She was angry, she was worried... and all she wanted to do was cry. Quinlan wasn’t just someone she cared about, he was also the best hope they had.

Myla slipped out of the door frame, surprised to see the lights off and no one around. She eyed the piece of rebar on the floor. When she was sure no one was coming to lock her back up, she slipped into the hall, and as a last resort, she pulled one of Vasiliy’s city maps out of his backpack and slipped into the elevator.

She had been livid for the past hour, but once those elevator doors closed she began to feel nervous. Her hand went to her sword and she could only tell herself to trust herself.

* * *

Within twenty minutes, Myla was able to drive to the blast site. It was a portion of New York she had been fond of. Small coffee shops, a pet store, spa, and yoga studio. Now that she thought about it, the area was flush with people and likely the reason why the ancients had chosen such a place to reside in. This had been their hunting ground.

With rubble taking up most of the street, Myla referenced Vasiliy’s map. Her only chance of getting back to the same rooms they had visited earlier that day, was a subway entrance and a long walk.

Myla pulled out a headlamp from her backpack, strapped it to her head and made her way to the nearest subway entrance. In one hand she held a gun, and in the other, her sword.

The subway tunnels quickly reminded her of the night he had saved her life. She tried to pull every memory of their training to mind as she ventured into the dark in what may very well be a suicide mission from someone who was already dead. But it didn’t matter, she owed him this. She’d done drugs, taken risks... but nothing this reckless.

Whatever was pulling her down these dark tunnels of collapsed rubble had to be something resembling love.

She picked up her pace until she came across more rubble. This was going to be tougher to get through. It didn’t completely block her path, she was able to maneuver through walkways and service tunnels, but that was where she encountered her first Strigoi. It was wounded and its stinger was unable to extend the full six feet, this gave Myla the advantage to cut it down before it could strike with a second attack.

Myla cut down the first, then the second, the third. Each one was wounded, a consistent trait that only made Myla realize she had to have made the right choice to go after Quinlan.

She soon recognized some graffiti on a wall. She had seen it earlier that day, now it lay in fragments on the floor. Luckily there was enough of a gap she could still make her way towards the back of the tunnels. Nearby there were crushed bodies, and then... she smelled something burnt.

She had to be getting closer. She walked for what seemed like hours, she checked the map several times to make sure she was going in right direction. Eventually, the collapsed rubble she was crawling through opened up into a larger cavern.

Several more crippled strigoi tried to strike her while still buried under concrete as she made her way through the alcove. Myla cut away their stingers and put her sword through their heads. It was around the fifth or sixth one that she spotted a bone hilted sword stuck in the rubble.

Myla immediately dropped to her knees and started to pull away the rocks that were small enough to lift. Soon she found a hand and a black coat. With one strong push, she lifted a larger piece of concrete, revealing Quinlan’s body. For a moment she thought he was dead, she touched the base of his neck to rouse him and Quinlan’s stinger quickly shot out of his mouth and latched itself to her neck.

Myla winced at the pinch. She tapped Quinlan’s chest several times, it seemed after the fourth pull of blood he recognized her metallic taste and his stinger unlatched itself.

Quinlan sat up, startled, his surroundings finally became clear, he remembered Eichorst... the bomb... now how was she here? Quinlan couldn’t quite understand the order of events, having just drank a large amount of tainted blood he felt a little light headed. His hands clasped around Myla’s and she pulled him free of the wreckage.

She helped him stand, waiting until he got his feet under him. There were definitely a few crushed ribs, but nothing that wouldn’t heal with time.

With Quinlan awake, and the two of them making more noise, Myla took in their surroundings. She was looking for any signs of strigoi that may try to come after them in such a vulnerable state. However there were no signs of the ancients... sun hunters... or the Master’s minions.

After she was satisfied they were safe for the moment, Myla looked back to find Quinlan looking at her wide-eyed.

“You shouldn’t have come.” Quinlan finally said. He looked down at her neck, unhappy at what he had done. His thumb grazed the small wound wishing he hadn’t reacted as he did.

“And leave you buried?” she asked.

“I could have killed you.” he said in a low voice.

“You wouldn’t.” Myla said back, almost angry he would insinuate such a thing. She trusted him, but she had never thought about what he would do in a deprived state. Either way, Myla wanted to trust that Quinlan would always do the right thing.

“You’re alone.” he stated. “You shouldn’t have come alone, that was reckless!” Quinlan seethed that last word through his teeth as Myla adjusted her arms, he felt pain. His ribs were more damaged that he’d thought.

“Don't do what Vas does!” Myla said. “I didn’t escape a lecture to get one from you.”

Quinlan was silent. He realized she was alone because Vasiliy had told her not come. Of course she had disobeyed.

“Look, I know you don’t need my help... but I wanted to come find you... I saw the blast - and I couldn’t not... know.” Myla looked at the ground, bashful, almost afraid of what feelings she would give away.

She didn’t think Quinlan could relate. But he did.

Quinlan paused for a moment.

“No one’s ever come back for me.” he said.

Myla looked up at him. She was looking into his pale eyes, somehow hoping he understood. His gaze dropped from her, he pulled away, almost coldly. And Myla watched has he pulled his sword from he rubble, he had never looked so worn.

“Thank you.” he said as he picked up one of his uzi’s and placed it back in his coat pocket.

“Don’t mention it, I still owe you one.” Myla said as she took his side once more.

Quinlan grabbed her arm, spinning her back around against his chest. She still wasn’t sure if he was mad at her, or glad she came.

“You owe me nothing.” Quinlan said leaning in as he pushed his pain aside, Myla looked into his eyes once again. She felt that pull she had felt their first night together. She didn’t understand why she felt this way. But when his lips crashed against hers she felt a fire that she had been chasing since the first night he saved her life. Myla’s hands slipped up the sides of his head and held him against her. She arched against him as they both kissed one another with a fierce passion.

The fight for dominance ended quickly when a pile of rocks crumbled behind them. It wasn’t a large collapse, it was quiet, almost inaudible, except that the entire room had been completely silent except for them. It only reminded them that this wasn’t the time, nor the place to stand idly.

“We should go, it will be daylight soon.” he said.

Myla nodded, Quinlan headed towards the exit. But Myla couldn’t help but turn around and look at the grand destruction caused tonight. She could tell that buried another mile underground had to be the lair she had stood in just this morning. Whatever Quinlan and the professor worried about regarding Myla’s part in this, was buried with them. Part of her felt strange that she would never know the truth, but that feeling was quickly ignored by the relief that Quinlan wasn’t buried with them. She looked around once more at the empty cavern before ducking her head and slipping back into the rubble maze.

When they finally climbed their way back out of the city tunnels, sunlight had crested over the top of the several buildings that were lucky enough to still be standing. Quinlan was now free to lean against her as they walked toward the car, but Myla was disheartened to learn that the SUV she had taken to get here had been stolen.

“Then we’ll walk.” Quinlan said. “But quickly. The sooner we get back the sooner we figure out why the Master went after the ancients. And that bomb... perhaps your brother can enlighten us on what it was.”

“Vasiliy saw it too. He said it had to be nuclear.”

“A nuclear bomb.” Quinlan said sighing, “perhaps the most destructive weapon in human history. I never thought it would be so bright.”

“Bright?” Myla asked, “You mean you saw it?”

“I was close enough to witness it’s destruction, yes.”

Myla picked up her step to keep up with Quinlan’s. He had long legs and a quick step, when she matched his pace she held onto his arm tightly. Happy, and lucky to have him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, getting through the middle here, more out VERY soon. Thanks for reading, hope you like where this goes.


	22. Heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all smutty in here, pleaaaase be careful.

When the two of them made it back to the Olympian, they were disheveled and tired from their long walk. They had taken a couple detours to avoid some looters and that had pushed their return back into the afternoon. It didn’t help that Quinlan was in a bit of pain, but it seemed a couple hours was all it took to have him walking straight again. Myla herself felt rather fatigued from the loss of blood, but she hadn’t minded as it seemed to be what helped Quinlan recover quickly.

When the elevator doors opened both of them could clearly hear the argument going on in the next room.

“For Christ’s sake Fet! I made a mistake, get over it!”

“And how many people have died at your mistakes, huh?! Nora? Your wife?”

“How'd that assault in central park work out for you? Half the cops in New York are dead because of you! Those lives are on you!” Ephraim shouted.

By the time Myla had rounded the corner she saw Ephraim and Vasiliy throwing fists at each other. Myla watched in awe until Vasiliy threw Eph onto the floor. Her brother’s rage was frightening. She’d seen Vasiliy throw a punch before, but only to end a fight, not start one.

Myla thrust herself between the doctor and her brother. She placed both her hands on her brother's chest in an attempt to push him back.

“Stop it! The both of you!” Setrakian yelled. “The Master would love nothing more than to see us torn apart.”

“Torn apart! I’m not the one sneaking out in the middle of the night to go after some muncher!” Vasiliy pushed away her hands and Quinlan stepped in between the siblings. “You two look like you had a hell of a night.” Vasiliy now realizing they were both covered in the thin layer of dust and sweat.

“The professor’s right, there is no time for bickering!” Quinlan said.

“Did you talk to the ancients?” Setrakian asked.

“The ancients are dead,” Quinlan said flatly.

Silence fell over the room. Setrakian looked disappointed.

“I guess that plan is out the window.” Vasiliy said, “Good thing the Doc showed up with Dutch’s machine, yeah?” his voice was thick with sarcasm.

“The professor’s right Fet. If we don’t work as a team on this, we don’t stand a chance.” Myla said.

“We don’t stand a chance. Period.” Vasiliy stated. “We have a two thief's, my ex, and my sister. What kind of team is that?”

“Vasiliy!” Myla yelled. “None of that matters - if their machine can do what they say -”

“Then we’re still fucked! Every plan I had against the Master has failed. Why should some silver box be any different?!”

“Because it’s all we have! Now you of all people should understand why they took that damn book. Plans fail! We have to keep trying! Don't you see that?”

“Is that why you ran after him? Huh? Think he’s got some plan that will save us all?”

“No Vas. I saved him because it’s what you taught me to do!”

“What I taught you? I told you to stay the hell away from the guy. I always say your gonna be his next meal... wait - _wait_ is that what I think it is?”

Vasiliy looked down at Myla’s neck, the puncture had long since closed up, but there was a streak of dried blood from her neck to her chest. Myla’s hand shot up to cover the blood, her instant reaction told Vasiliy all he needed to know.

“I’m gonna kill you- _you fucking muncher_!”

Myla rounded Quinlan so she was in-between them again. Not that Quinlan needed protecting, but this was Myla’s fight.

“Vas don’t!” Myla yelled pushing him back. “It’s not what you think-”

“I think he’s got himself a little pre-heated snack whenever he wants!”

“He was injured, I was okay with-”

“He’s a muncher! And now you stand here protecting him! You act like you're in love with the guy!”

Vasiliy was angry, spouting off whatever came to mind. He was furious Quinlan had used her in that way... and that Myla could stand there and defend such a disgusting act. Vasiliy thought the next ludicrous thing would be to have feelings for the creature, but he never expected to hit the nail on the head.

Myla’s silence told him enough. Her face was turning red with embarrassment, her eyes were to the floor as she was unable to look at anyone else in the room. She wanted to turn around and run. She didn’t know what to say... but she only knew she wasn’t about to deny her feelings but she couldn’t answer to them either.

Myla took a step forward and slapped Vasiliy across his face. Her brother made no attempt to come towards her or retaliate against her. He was torn between questioning what had just happened, and how that related to the truth within his statement.

Ephraim glanced at Myla and Quinlan. Now the conversation he had with Quinlan a couple weeks ago made more sense. The day after Myla had hit him over the head... Quinlan insinuated he would finish the job she started. The threat on the doctor’s life occurred because there _was_ something between the two of them. Eph was grateful he’s been let off with just a warning.

Dutch recognized it too, she was no stranger to different types of love, she wasn’t even shocked, but more or less intrigued. Vasiliy however, chose ignorance. Denial would be his greatest tool in the days to come, and he wasn’t about to give any validity to his statement. His little sister was just like their mother... kind-hearted and strong-willed. She went after Quinlan because Vasiliy would have done the same for the professor... or even Dutch.

_At least that's what he wanted to believe._

“Perhaps the siblings should turn in for the night,” Setrakian said. “Come morning there will be much to do, so I suggest you set aside your differences, and I mean _all of them,_ Mr. Fet.”

Myla took the professor's statement as her queue to leave. She turned away passing by Quinlan as quickly as she could. Her heart was beating rapidly and she knew Quinlan had to hear it. 

Myla was finally standing in her bedroom. She had been dreaming about her bed for the last several hours now, she had shed her coat and backpack, but all she could do was pace. She had felt so embarrassed in front of everyone. She couldn’t deny her feelings for Quinlan... but she just couldn’t bring herself to tell Vasiliy otherwise. And now Quinlan would be here any moment. All she could do was think about that first night they spent together and the deal they had made. It wasn’t supposed to turn into something like this... but one by one they broke their own rules and grown closer and closer.

She heard the door shut behind her and there stood Quinlan. He eyed her cautiously. He had to be looking for an explanation. She didn’t have one to give him. They stood motionless, staring at one another. Myla had been waiting for him to speak but no words ever came.

 _“Quinlan I-”_ was the sentence she started. But was unable to complete. Quinlan had crossed the room in a blur - next thing she knew she was being picked up and carried into the bathroom with the same sense of speed. She hadn’t realized that they had stopped moving or that her feet were on the ground until she felt the spray of very cold water.

She gasped instantly and opened her eyes. She looked up to find Quinlan towering above her hand gripped tightly at her sides as he held her against him like he never wanted to let her go. The warmth of his body was greatly appreciated as the cold water ran down her back soaking her clothes. The water soon turned warm just as she felt his lips crash against hers and reignited the passionate kiss they had shared in the previous night.

In that moment neither of them cared about anything. They didn’t care about what had transpired in the next room or that their clothes were becoming completely soaked with water. They only cared about that kiss... about the tangle of tongues and fight for dominance. Even though Myla knew she would eventually lose, she was always going to give him whatever he wanted.

Quinlan lifted the hem of her shirt and Myla’s arms quickly went above her head to help him remove the garment. She unhooked her bra herself, and Quinlan quickly made his way to her chest. She couldn’t help but moan as his mouth encircled one of her nipples.

Myla’s hands reached over his back as he leaned into her. She eventually worked his shirt up high enough for him to slip it off completely. In the brief moment apart they admired each other’s bodies before resuming their kiss. Myla’s hands desperately worked at undoing both their pants. With a bit of effort, the denim eventually made its way down both of their wet legs. Finally leaving them bare to let their hands roam and touch one another. She gasped as Quinlan’s hands made their way to her hips...

He lifted her against the shower wall. Myla felt the cool glass send a shiver down her spine but found that the warm man between her thighs made it all feel okay. Steam was now all around them, Myla began to nibble on Quinlan’s bottom lip, then he swept his tongue into her mouth, every movement, every kiss was a testament to how they felt about each other. It dizzying, _it was blissful._

Myla whimpered into his mouth, she felt Quinlan tighten against her, the need between them growing steadily, soon neither of them were able to bear it any longer. He could feel her nails raking down his back, as she ground against him. In one swift movement, he adjusted the height of her hips so he could slide into her with one snap of his hips.

His thrust took her breath away, she was sure several colorful words wanted to escape her lips, but none came, she was speechless. She had never quite adjusted to his size, it always took her a moment to stretch and fit him. Quinlan was aware of this and waited until he heard a raw moan escape her lips that indicated she wanted more.

Quinlan was quite literally, drunk on her. He instinctively buried his face into her neck as he set a slow and controlled pace. But all his resolve was lost the moment he felt her tongue snake from the bottom of his ear to the tip. In that moment he felt a surge of electricity shoot from his head to his groin, and then he was lost.

Myla’s hands went to grasp the top of the shower again as Quinlan held her hips and pulled her onto him again and again until she was crumbling under his own fingertips. She came so hard that she lost her grip on the shower and had to return her hands to Quinlan’s shoulders. As she brushed over the swirls on his neck, his coil released and he spilled inside her. As her own orgasm came in waves it pulled him further and further into her oblivion.

In their haze they clutched to one another, breathing one another in heavily as they waited for the pulsating to subside.

After a quick rinse, they both stepped out of the shower. Quinlan dried himself and asked that Myla come join him in bed. Myla said she’d need a few minutes to dry her hair.

When she did step out she found Quinlan laying in her bed, eyes shut. Myla slipped under the covers, finding that Quinlan had actually fallen asleep.

“Not up for round two?” she asked playfully as she settled in against him.

Quinlan let out a soft chuckle. “I could be.”

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“Sore, but fine. Come morning I’ll feel like I was never buried under a pile of rubble.”

Myla smiled at this good news and placed a kiss at his temple.

“You sleep, I’m - going to go rescue those sopping wet clothes and get them into the dryer.”

Quinlan smiled at her and give her knee a squeeze before she hopped out of bed. He looked her naked body up and down. Memorizing each freckle... the small dove tattoo on her shoulder. He watched as she slipped on an oversized t-shirt, a shirt he recognized from the first night they spent together. He liked the way her thighs peaked out from under the shirt, and he had to smile as she came out of the bathroom carrying a basket full of their wet clothes. He’d seen Tasa carry their clothes from the river many times, it had been a ritual he remembered fondly.

Myla slipped out the door, quietly making her way down the hall to the to the stairs. The tenth floor had a washer dryer set she had used once before. She had just finished loading their soaked clothes into the dryer when Dutch appeared in the doorway.

“You using the machine too?” she asked.

“Oh no,” Myla responded. “Just drying some wet clothes, it’s all yours.”

Dutch nodded and entered the small room awkwardly. Myla didn’t make eye contact.

“So. uh, about before...” Dutch said. “I hope you don’t... feel embarrassed.”

“I uh, I’m over it. Vas knows how to make a scene. At least when it comes to me.”

“Vas?” Dutch said with a smile. “That’s a really cute nickname.”

“Ha, you should hear what he calls me,” she said.

“He’s sweet, your brother,” Dutch said remembering him fondly.

“When he’s cooled down, sure.”

“Is there... any _truth to it_?” Dutch asked boldly.

Myla shut the dryer door. Her silence made the room a bit awkward. But Dutch was one for these types of awkward conversations.

“I mean, the Doc said Quinlan gave him an earful about staying away from you, and the look on your face hardly says no. Even the professor’s been a bit dodgy when I asked him about it. So something’s definitely going on between you two.”

“Uh, yeah - we’re close,” Myla said shrugging her shoulders. Habitually Myla was palming the pockets of her pants. She was glad she had when she came across Quinlan's pendant for the second time. She made a mental note to make sure she kept it safe.

“Close enough you’re comfortable letting him feed off of you?”

“It’s not something he does all the time,” Myla said defensively covering her neck again.

“Just amidst the throws of passion eh?” Dutch said casually as she tossed in several items of clothes.

Myla’s face turned bright red again.

“Oh my god! I was kidding!” Dutch exclaimed as she nearly dropped the entire bottle of detergent in the wash. “So you two have...?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know you that well... so I’m going to go upstairs.” Myla stuttered as quickly as she could before turning on the dryer and heading for the door.  
  
“Oh come on love! I love a good story!” Dutch called out.

Myla quickly made her way back upstairs. She had only met Dutch once and hadn’t been too fond of the half-dissected strigoi around Vasiliy’s apartment. Luckily Dutch didn’t follow her upstairs, Myla had avoided yet another awkward conversation for the night.

When she returned, she shut the door quietly to let Quinlan rest. She tiptoed over to the nightstand setting down the pendant before looking over to find Quinlan awake, staring at her again.

“You’re supposed to be resting.” she said.

“I wanted to sleep when you were here,” Quinlan said.

Myla climbed into bed next to him. Her heart skipped a beat as she felt pure comfort slide over her. She pressed her body against his and rested her head on his shoulder. She tentatively touched his side, almost looking for any further injuries. She figured if he had the strength to do those things to her in the shower... he was going to be just fine.

She wanted to sleep too, but the rest of the night kept nagging at her. Was he wondering how she felt? Or did he just know?

“Your heart is beating rapidly again.” he said, “Not only can I hear it, but I can feel it.”

Myla blushed again. She was quick to forget Quinlan often knew something was going on in her head even before she did.

“I - I’m just glad you’re okay. I didn’t know what I’d do if I never found you.”

“But I’m lying beside you. Why would that make you so nervous now?”

“Because - because of how I feel.” Myla admitted, “I - Vasiliy was right when-” Myla sighed heavily. “I’m sorry I broke our promise.”

“What promise?” he asked.

“After that first night we spent together... I promised that I would be okay, that it was this one-time thing, then I kissed you anyway and then you had to go and get shot twenty times!”

Myla’s heart was pounding so loudly even she could hear it now.

Quinlan knew what this was, and it made his heart beat faster as well. But the erratic things her heart was doing made him smile. Sure both their emotions were controlled by their brain, but that feeling they both felt stretched across their chest... waiting to strangle them mid-conversation.

“Then you changed your mind, wanting to have a friend... a companion..." Quinlan leaned in and kissed her. “...or whatever I am,’’ she said, Quinlan leaned in and kiss her again. This time she stayed with his lips, her hands snaking back up to his head, keeping him close to her.

Quinlan rolled over, his hand pulled her knee up onto his side before going back down between their bodies to make its way under her shirt. There he felt her mound, still warm, and slightly wet from earlier. His thumb prodding her sensitive bundle of nerves. She let out a moan and Quinlan slipped a finger inside her. Myla pressed herself further into him, she pulled away from her face almost as if to say something else, but no words came - she understood this must mean there was nothing to be said. Only felt.

Quinlan had to know how what she couldn't bring herself to say.

_So she gave in._

Quinlan kissed his way down her body, his hands followed making her skin raise in pleasurable little goosebumps. He gently kissed both her thighs before taking a taste between them. He returned his fingers to that sensitive spot inside her as he continued to taste her from the outside. She felt her body coil itself quickly - she hadn’t expected it to, but every time she looked down at him she felt a ripple of pleasure shoot to her thighs that would make them shake. She couldn’t take it anymore, she took in a sharp breath and held it - one more swipe of his fingers had brought it all crashing down and that captured breath escaped in a rather loud cry of pleasure.

Quinlan came up to kiss her, silencing her ragged breaths and she couldn’t kiss him hard enough. She wrapped her legs around him tightly as if to flex any trembling muscles. Quinlan rolled over, her strength keeping her against him and leaving her atop him. Without wasting another moment, she slid lower to return the favor he had just given her. She hadn’t given him oral pleasure before, but the moment she touched her tongue to the tip of his cock, Quinlan took in a sharp breath just as she had done moments ago. She used her mouth and hand, working him with a gentle touch, something he enjoyed very much. He was still too big to fit all the way into her mouth, so she chose to use speed as a pleasurable element, but after only a moment of teasing him, Quinlan was already pulling her on top of him, practically frenzied to be inside her.

She appeased him by sinking down onto him slowly, she still needed time to adjust - but she hadn’t expected such a loud rattle to come from his throat when she finally took him all the way in. She took a slow pace riding on top of him, and it seemed that his rattle never really went away. She leaned forward, pressing their foreheads together as she was working her way up to her third orgasm of the night. She was overly sensitive, and by now, very tired. So Quinlan took control by holding her hips and driving himself up into her.

She put her hands on the wall above them to brace herself, then she couldn't take it any longer, he was hitting that sweet spot inside her, stretching her and filling her over and over again. And when she came her vision went white and came back in a vision of stars. In her haze, she did manage to get out those three simple words that had been plaguing her all night. They were from breathless lips, probably mumbled, perhaps even incoherent. But they both knew better than anyone she may not have a chance tomorrow to say it.

When Quinlan heard her whisper that she loved him, he felt his chest tighten in such a beautiful way. The sudden words had caused him to take one last deep thrust and empty himself inside her. Then they both stayed motionless, now completely exhausted. So much so, it seemed like a daunting task just to slip off of him. Eventually, she did, fixing herself into the crook of his shoulder once more before her eyelids grew heavy.

“I - I wanted to say -” Quinlan began, Myla looked up at him with tired eyes, “- I’m glad we never kept that promise.”

Myla smiled at him. “Me too.”

Myla understood this was his response to her admission. At first, she wanted to hear it back, but then her eyes glanced over at the roman pendant he carried around. And then she realized he didn’t have to say anything. Myla knew how he felt about her, and if it was going to pain him to tell her he loved her, she didn't want to hear it.

Quinlan, though tired had appreciated her words, even though he had guessed it was the case for a while now. The girl wore her heart on her sleeve and he was lucky enough to be a part of it. But he had been scorned too many times by love, maybe if he didn't say it - it would work out this time. He wanted to give her some kind of explanation, but then she told him to sleep.

“Now rest," she cooed as she stroked the side of his face.

Myla glanced one more time at his pendant before remembering their laundry, it would be done by now. She sat up, having found a small burst of energy. “I should get out clothes if we want something to wear in the morning.”

She hopped out of bed and adjusted the large t-shirt that had gotten bunched up during their lovemaking. She quickly tip-toed back to the laundry room.

Myla, unfortunately, found Dutch again who was now moving her wash into the dryer. Myla’s clothes had been already folded and returned to her basket.

“Sorry love, couldn’t wait, I folded them for you.” she said.

Myla’s face went red, realizing Quinlan’s pants were neatly folded and set on the top of the pile.

“Aren’t those a bit big for you?” she asked giving her a wink.

Myla said nothing though couldn’t fight the smile on her face. Dutch shot her a smile as well as they both made a silent agreement to not say anything.

“If... it’s just between us girls can I ask you something?”

Reluctantly, Myla said, “Sure.”

“What’s he like?”

“He’s... kind. And he cares about me.” Myla stated matter-of-factly.

“No, I mean... what’s he like _with those pants off?”_

“Oh... god, I’m not answering that.” Myla rolled her eyes and tried to hide a blush.

“I’m only asking because I’m staying in the room next to yours,” Dutch said leaving a pregnant pause at the end. Myla’s face was turning a darker shade of pink as she realized Dutch must have heard them. She had no idea someone had been staying in that room. “He sounds like he could keep you up all night. I mean, you look exhausted, so it had to be good right? Is he... _equipped_ and everything?”

Myla grabbed her basket and flashed Dutch a nervous smile, before heading out the door. "Still... need to know you better," Myla said.

“Well... I’m gonna take that look as a yes then.” Dutch said with another wink.

Dutch managed to start the dryer before Myla made her way back down the set of stairs, "If you... uh were here... was Vasiliy anywhere he would have heard us?" Myla asked tentatively. 

Dutch smiled, "No love, you got lucky. Palmer called Setrakian a while ago, he and Fet went to see what that was about."

"Oh. Thank. God," Myla said.

"Yeah... I'd imagine Fet might barge in there with his bit of rebar." Dutch said. "Don't get me wrong, I think it's sweet Q's got someone. But that brother of yours is a handful."

"You're telling me," Myla said with a huff. "I'm gonna get to bed, haven't slept in like twenty-six hours."

"Ah love, but who's counting in this shit show, am I right?"

"Yeah, you're right," Myla said. "If they get back, wake me?" 

"Sure thing." 

Myla headed back upstairs, happy to know she at least had one other ally in their group. Tomorrow could be difficult with Vasiliy, and she wasn't looking forward to it, but right now all she wanted was soft sheets and her half-strigoi space heater in her bed. Then she could sleep until next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, I had a lot of this done for a while, it just felt like such a weak chapter. So much important stuff with so much naughty. Anyways, I write as a hobby, doing my best here! Thanks for reading I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far.


	23. Tenacity

Quinlan let Myla sleep most of the morning. He put on his clothes and quietly slipped out of the room. He had perfect timing, just as he sat down in the common area Vasiliy and the Professor returned.

The two men didn’t say much at first, Vasiliy didn’t even bother to look at him. But they sat with Quinlan nonetheless.

“It was a bomb the Master brought from Egypt,” Setrakian said, breaking the silence.

“Like the one that went off the other night?” Quinlan asked,

“Yes, based on what Vasiliy described seeing, the very same.”

“No ancients,” Quinlan stated.

“No it seems the Master is not working with them... if his intentions were to kill them - he succeeded.”

“At least for the ancients in this world,” Quinlan said.

“The old world ancients will likely succumb to the same fate,” Setrakian said. “It seems the enemy of our enemy is our friend. Alas, we cannot travel across the ocean to seek their help. It seems we are on our own.”

“With a silver box,” Vasiliy said sounding disappointed.

“It will work,” Quinlan said. “It must.” Everything he’d ever wanted was riding on whether or not their plan would work.

“We’ll need you to get him into the box,” Vasiliy said. “Dutch’s machine will help, the rest of us can be eyes, muscle. Make sure we get out of there alive.”

“Where are we to find the Master?” Quinlan asked.

“Palmer has secured his last and only bomb, he’s hidden it at Stoneheart, and expects the Master will come to get it soon. We are to set a trap.” Setrakian said.

“It’s a good a plan as any,” Quinlan said. “The element of surprise will be helpful.”

“Then it’s a plan. We leave within the hour.” Setrakian said, “I want to make sure there are no surprises.”

“I’ll talk to Dutch and the Doc,” Vasiliy said. “Tell them the plan.”

“Fet you should speak with your sister. Make sure nothing is to come between you two when -” Setrakian said.

“She’s not coming,” Vasiliy said.

“Perhaps that is for her to decide,” Setrakian said. “She handled herself well the other night, just as she has countless times before that.”

“Mr. Fet is right. It’s best she stay behind.” Quinlan said.

Vasiliy looked at Quinlan for the first time, he looked shocked to hear Quinlan had agreed with him.

Setrakian rolled his eyes, “I do not think that is wise.”

“It’s for the best, Professor,” Quinlan said. “I will tell her.”

Vasiliy wanted to argue with Quinlan but he agreed with the man. Vasiliy also didn’t mind that it would be Quinlan taking most of Myla’s anger.  
Quinlan woke Myla by softly by pushing her hair away from her face. He knew in this moment he should tell her goodbye, after all, he didn’t know what the next twenty-four hours could hold. Instead, he told her the Professor’s plan and then he asked her not to come.

He watched her smile fade, Myla didn’t like that one bit.

“After I everything I’ve done... you-you're just like Vasiliy,” she said.

“It’s for the best to keep you out of danger. And I think you of all people would understand why. You worried for my safety-”

“-And I came after you! I didn’t sit around on my ass! That’s not how this works, we go at it together. We’re stronger that way.”

“You’re also my weakness,” Quinlan said placing his hands on her face. “I want this to work, and for that to happen I can’t wonder if you’ve been stung or if the Master-” Quinlan thumbed her bottom lip hoping to somehow will her to understand. But she was stubborn and strong-willed like her brother.

“Please, I beg you, stay. We’ll be back, and then...” Quinlan placed his lips to her forehead, “... we’ll go somewhere. Anywhere.”

Myla shook her head, she was upset, he could see tears in her eyes.

“How is that fair that I get to sit here and worry about you. All of you.”

“It’s not. I’m trying to protect you.”

Myla pulled herself out of bed and got dressed. She was ignoring him, not feeling he deserved an answer from her. All she felt she could give him was a kiss on the lips and a ‘’good luck.”

Then she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Though Myla did find Vasiliy in the hall.

“You talk to him?” Vasiliy said.

“You mean did he ask me to stay behind?” Myla asked. Vasiliy stayed silent. “I know that you must have had a hand in that little idea.”

“So? What’s it matter if I want to protect you.”

“I guess it does matter, to you.”

“Whats that supposed to mean?” Vasiliy asked her.

Myla rolled her eyes and continued down the hall. She was looking for someone, just not her brother.

“Hey don’t walk away from me!” Vasiliy said. “We still have to talk about your little problem.”

“And what’s that?” Myla asked turning back towards him, staring daggers at him. “You wanna talk about last night? How I let Quinlan feed off me?”

“It is not right and you know it.”

Myla took a couple steps towards her brother, and smirk on her face.

“Then I guess I shouldn’t tell you how it feels when he does it... you know... it feels kinda good. And it’s not the first time either - and just so you’re aware I’m the one who always offers.”

Vasiliy furrowed his brow and looked at her disgusted. It hadn’t been the first time he looked at her this way. And she didn’t care for it now either, but she was trying to get a rise out of him. All he could do was sigh and shake his head.

“Figures,” he mumbled before turning and walking away.

* * *

 

Vasiliy was loading the van with their equipment, and more importantly, the box. The Doc had been getting on his nerves again by getting close to the Professor.

“Keep the weakest link close...” Vasiliy had told him.

Ephraim didn’t understand out the brutish man couldn’t just let the past go. Vasiliy always had to hit him, whether it was with fists or insults. Nothing Setrakian had said to Vasiliy had stuck in his head.

“You know Doc, the one good thing about all this is when it’s all done and over with... I’ll never have to see you again.”

“Well. I guess we both agree on one thing.” Ephraim said.

“What you gonna fight me too?” Dutch asked. “You made it very clear things were over between us.”

“Not as clear as you made it,” Vasiliy said back.

“So it bothers you that I’m with him. Not that he stole the Lumen. You have a very high opinion of your own moral compass, don’t you? God forbid somebody does something you disagree with.”

“You mean like sleep with every other person I meet?”

“Sanctimonious hypocritical prick,” Dutch said as she stormed off. Vasiliy stood there, bothered, wounded, but for some reason didn’t know why he couldn’t help but look at her.

“She’s right you know,” Myla said.

“Shut up,” Vasiliy said back. “Like you would know, considering your choice in men.”

“My choice?”

“Last night wasn’t a clue to you? You turned bright red when I said you liked the guy. So that must be true, eh? You let him suck on your blood cause you like the guy? Ever occur to you he’s a muncher, you're a blood bag? The guy’s never going to care about you.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” Myla asked, her brows furrowed. She knew Vasiliy didn’t know the extent of their relationship - only assumed Myla had a crush.

“The guy is half-strigoi, Myla. What do you expect?”

“Why do you think he asked me to stay behind?” Myla asked.

“I don’t know because he made a smart decision for once?”

“Or...” Myla said, “He agrees with you because he cares about me?”

Vasiliy chuckled, “Heh, right. Probably just wants a meal when he gets back from all this.”

Myla rolled her eyes and headed in Dutch’s direction. Vasiliy was pig-headed, but he cared... and for the first time since Myla met Dutch she realized that her brother had feelings for her.

Myla found Dutch rummaging through the service kitchens looking for something packaged to eat. She was clearly irritated slamming cupboards and turning her nose up at canned beef.

“He’s been like this since I got here,” Myla said. “The over-protective brother had been in full gear for a while now.”

Dutch looked up and smiled at her. “Yeah, well I didn’t exactly help with that.” she's said. “We were together - for a little while, and I ended up choosing to help my ex - and when she left we weren’t a thing, Fet and I weren’t a thing...”

“He still cares about you. He’s harder on the people he cares about.”

“Ha, even Eph?”

“That may be a little more about the two of you...” Myla said. “Vas isn’t great with jealousy either.”

Dutch smiled, clearly feeling better now that the two of them had talked.

“He’s a good guy your brother, I’ll always regret letting him go.”

Myla shrugged her shoulders and tossed Dutch a bag of pretzels. “At least this is almost over.”

“You sure you still want to go through with it?” Dutch asked. “Seems like a lot to go through just for him.”

“No, he’s right. Me being there is a distraction, this way we both get what we want.”

“Alright love, I’ve got your back.”

* * *

 

All six of them gathered around a table going over a hand-drawn map of Stoneheart. Everyone had a role to play, everyone except Myla. She stood silently, arms crossed, mildly irritated at both men at her sides. When the plan was discussed and excepted by all parties, Myla made it a point to slip away only to be caught by Quinlan in the hallway.

“Should you choose to remain angry with me, I will understand. But I have not changed my mind.”

“Yeah, I gathered that,” Myla said she uncrossed her arms and shut the door to her bedroom. Quinlan stood on the other side for a moment, silently saying goodbye to her should he not return at all. He would have just made it a point to follow her and tell her goodbye - but he all he wanted to do what tell her how he felt. He wanted to kiss her deeply once more to remind her that he cared, but if he opened that door he knew he wouldn’t be able to tell her. He was still too afraid.

* * *

 

A crew of five loaded themselves into the van. No one said anything about Myla not being with them.

The ride was fairly silent except for when Dutch and the Doctor started arguing about the range of their brain. They ended up deciding that as a fail safe they could patch into the security system, and play it throughout the building, should the Master choose to make a run for it - at least range wouldn’t be an issue. Ephraim offered to help, but Dutch insisted she go alone because she could handle plugging in a few extra wires.

When they reached Stoneheart they pulled into service parking. They unloaded the box and took a moment to look around, it seemed quiet, but Palmer was expecting them, perhaps he got rid of the help to make it easier to sneak in a group of soldiers with a silver lined coffin. Everyone else seemed satisfied except for Quinlan.

“I’m going to have a look around,” Quinlan said.

Ephraim gave him a slight nod before Quinlan disappeared down a service hallway. They hadn’t planned for Quinlan to go off on his own, but they went along with it anyway the man’s instincts were usually helpful.

The four of them made their war to the elevator which seemed to allow them access despite the need for a key card.

“Guess Palmer’s waiting for us,” Dutch said.

“Guess so,” Vasiliy added.

“Godspeed everyone,” Setrakian said giving them a slight nod.

“Yeah, you too, professor,” Vasiliy said, perhaps worried for the first time today. Ephraim and Setrakian made their way towards the lobby elevator, separating their team once more.

Dutch and Vasiliy rounded the corner of the hallway, Dutch silently pressed the call button as she glanced down at the large box.

“I’m not sanctimonious,” Vasiliy said.

“So... just a hypocritical prick then?” she asked.

“You slept with him,” Vasiliy said with a spiteful tone.

“And?” Dutch asked wide-eyed, still nervously looking at him then to the box.

“And!” Vasiliy rolled his eyes as he began to grow more frustrated. How could she be so cavalier about this? Vasiliy bit his tongue and tried to reason with himself. He cared about Dutch - maybe if she just knew he still did...

The elevator doors opened, and Vasiliy hit the correct floor. The doors closed and began to move. Now it was just Vasiliy, Dutch, and silence. This was when Vasiliy was trying to come up with some way to apologize for earlier. He still cared deeply for Dutch but didn’t know how to work their way out of the rut they had created. They’d grown so far apart in such a short time. Perhaps it was fitting considering how quickly they fell in love.

“Dutch I-”

“Here, hold this,” she said handing him her jamming device.

Vasiliy took the contraption with confusion written across his face, then he watched as Dutch opened the silver box, and out popped his sister. Myla sat up like a vampire out of the old movies, there was sweat across her forehead as she took in a couple deep breaths.

“Myla!” he shouted.

Myla took in a deep breath, “Longest twenty minutes of my life!” she said panting.

“You could have suffocated in there!” Vasiliy said, his anger rising.

“Oh Fet, don’t be so dramatic! I would never have let her suffocate.” Dutch said as she took back her device. “Sorry love, I figured now was as good a time as any.”

“Thanks, Dutch,” Myla said still taking in deep breaths.

“You- You!” Vasiliy said looking at both girls. “You planned this?!”

“Yeah, we were both a little tired of you being a prick,” Myla said.

Vasiliy furrowed his brow just as the elevator stopped and Myla stood up to stretch.

“Why the hell go to all this trouble?!”

“Well, I can’t say Quinlan was wrong,” Myla said. “You might have been, but he wasn’t.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Vasiliy asked.

“Just don’t tell him I’m here if you can help it,” Myla said.

“Housewares, come on love, this is our stop,” Dutch said stepping out of the elevator.

“What the hell is going on between you two?!” Vasiliy asked just as the elevator doors conveniently shut.

“You’re gonna have to tell him sometime,” Dutch said.

“I know,” Myla said. “I’m just surprised he hasn’t figured it out yet, everyone else has.”

“You’re gonna have to have a talk with Vasiliy too.” Myla said, “he clearly still cares about you.”

“You really think... in that way I mean?” Dutch asked. “I do sort of wish things had turned out differently for us.” Dutch was silent for a moment, “How long has the professor known about you and Q?” Dutch asked out of curiosity.  
  
“Eh, a while now. It’s... was sort of an odd beginning.”

“Who pursued who?” Dutch asked with a smile.

“I did. I suppose.” Myla asked. “I never had a lot of boyfriends growing up, but the ones I did have... I went after.”

“So you tamed the beast that is Mr. Quinlan,” Dutch said smiling as she set down her device in the security room.

                    _“We’re here Fet,” she said over the walkie._

“He’s hardly a beast. He’s quite the old soul.” Myla said. “I suppose that’s what drew me to him,” she said.

“And you think he’s going to be okay with you tagging along?”

“Oh no, of course not,” Myla said. “But I’m -”

“-Stubborn, like Fet.” Dutch finished. “I can tell.”

Myla smiled at her, she was happy to have a friend, especially one she could complain about Vasiliy to.

                      _“I can't believe you stowed away in there..."_

_Dutch turned down the volume so neither of them had to hear his most recent brotherly rant. After a few seconds, she turned it back up to hear silence._

_"You done?" Dutch asked._

_A sigh came over the walkie, "Any sign of Quinlan?” Vasiliy asked finally giving up._

                      _“No, not yet.” Dutch radioed back._

“He didn’t stick to the plan?” Myla asked.

“No, headed off as soon as we got here,” Dutch replied.

                      _“I’m in the service kitchen, no sign of anyone here,” Vasiliy said._

                        _“Yeah looks empty from here too, Eph and the Professor just got to Palmer’s office.”_

_“What are they doing?” Vasiliy asked._

_“Just talking with Palmer,” Dutch said._

“That place looks a mess,” Myla said.

“No kidding, there are bullet holes everywhere.”

“Why’s Palmer just sitting there?”

“I dunno looks like a boring conversation to me.”

                          _“What’s going on up there?” Vasiliy asked._

_“Noth-”_

“Oh shit!” Dutch said. Myla scanned the monitor, clearly, the flashes she was seeing were gunshots.

                        _“Shit - Fet, their fighting... with Palmer!”_

_“Turn on the jammer! Turn it on now!”_

Dutch clicked the switch, and Myla expected it to roar to life, but nothing happened.

“Shit!”

                        _“Fet gimme a sec!”_

“There’s Quinlan!” Myla said,

                  _“Quinlan’s headed towards the lobby elevator.” Myla radioed._

Myla’s eyes jumped from Quinlan fighting a soldier in the main lobby, to the altercation with Palmer on the top floor.

“Dutch come on...” Myla said.

“It’s unplugged the little bastard!”

“Shit! Shit - That should do the trick!” Dutch flicked the switch again, it came to life, but as they watched from the Monitor, it was clear the Master was unaffected.

“Come on there has to be a speaker system in there we can reach!” Myla said eyes scanning the monitor.

“There is...” Dutch began typing away at the security monitor, “Fuck! Palmer must have an override system in his office. The brain is working but I can't feed the signal to that room!”

Myla watched as Vasiliy charged into the room with the box, next she watched her brother attack Palmer, then she watched him flay halfway across the room. They weren’t going to survive this without that signal.

“Shit, I can’t watch this, how do I turn them on?”

“There’s probably a switch at his desk or on the wall... like a smart home system, something in settings like dimming the lights -- there should be a section for surround sound,” Dutch said.

“Got it,” Myla said as she took off in a dead run.

“Go! Hurry!”

The closer Myla got to Palmer’s office the more gunshots she could hear, just outside the office door, there was a panel like Dutch had described.

                        _“I’m here... there's a sound system option, it says admin override!” Myla walked._

_“Shit! That a system setting Palmer has to override...”_

_“Or like a bodyguard?” Myla asked._

_“Yeah? Perhaps, but it would have to be done from Palmer’s desk with a thumbprint-”_

_“Got it.”_

Myla bent down and used her sword to cut through the wrist of who was once part of Palmer’s security detail. His flesh was sucked and dry like he’d been drained of all blood. She took the severed hand and ran into Palmer’s office. The large doors made enough sound to distract all four of the occupants of the room for just a moment.

Myla wasted no time, she ran to the desk - she found a tablet when she turned it on it prompted her for a thumbprint. She looked up once to see each man take another swing at the Master - but now Palmer seemed more concerned with what she was doing than the other men.

It took several attempts to get the shriveled thumb to scan... each second her heart thudded loudly in her chest and her hands shook as she looked for a settings tab.

There it was,

_> Settings_  
_> Sound System_  
_> Surround Sound_  
_> Office/Muted_  
_> Unmute_

Then they all heard it. The pulse Dutch’s machine was pumping through the speakers. It was on the border of giving Myla a headache herself, and then she looked up to find Palmer only a few feet from her, his stinger creeping through his open lips - and then just as he lunged forward, his stinger fell flaccid against his chest.

Ephraim stepped between them, kicked the Master away from Myla, try to swing his sword with enough force to cut through him... Ephraim only grazed the Master’s stinger in a flash the Master had wrestled away Ephraim’s sword and turned around to deliver a blow to the doctor’s abdomen.

Myla rushed to the Doctor’s side, placing her hand over the wound, Vasiliy stood between them and the Master now, a protective growl came over him as he lifted his rebar and swung down with all his might. Vasiliy hit the Master hard enough to knock him back, now, with too many odds against him, the Master turned to run.

Then Quinlan made his appearance. With determination across his face, Quinlan smacked the sword out of the Master’s grip, defenseless Quinlan brought down his fists again and again until the Master was pushed back more and more... Then with the strength, he could muster Quinlan’s hands grasped Palmer’s suit and lifted him Vasiliy came to his side just as the Master was thrown on top of the silver lining, fear was written all over his face, and while Quinlan held him down, Vasiliy shut the lid - sealing the Master inside.

No one realized her still they had been until Dutch’s machine stopped. They were overcome with disbelief.

Dutch soon joined them, she too was stunned she couldn't stop looking at the box.

“He’s... in there?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Vasiliy said.

Dutch looked relieved until she notices Myla kneeling over Eph.

“Oh my god is he alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just superficial,” Ephraim said.

“It doesn’t look like it’s bleeding superficially!”

“I’ll be fine, it didn’t hit the muscle.”

“I should remind you, our job is only half done. We need to get this box to the bottom of the ocean as soon as possible!” Setrakian demanded.

“Look, you two go, I’ll stitch this up,” Ephraim said.

“No, I’m staying,” Dutch said.

“Let me get you a kit...” Myla said she went back into the adjacent rooms she had found the bodyguard in. There was a well-equipped medic kit, she grabbed it and a bottle of single malt whiskey, she knew the doc would appreciate that more than the gauze. When she turned around she found Quinlan clearly he was a little mad at her, his brow bone was furrowed, his lips turned to a frown.

“Why did you come? You deliberately disobeyed me.”

‘I don’t take commands from you.” Myla said, “You asked me to do something... and I never said I would do it.”

“I suppose I should have expected this. Considering how you disobeyed your brother to look for me.”

“Exactly,” Myla said walking over to him smiling, Quinlan still didn’t look happy, but she wasn’t afraid of him. She whispered, “We did it.” and his face did soften a little. She stepped up on her tip-toes to place a well-deserved kiss on his lips. Quinlan kissed her back once her kiss made him realize it was all over... and he hadn’t lost her.

They lost themselves for a moment in a tender kiss and didn’t notice when Vasiliy and Dutch walked in on them.

Vasiliy stared in disbelief for a moment. He wasn’t sure what he should be feeling.

Vasiliy managed to mumble, “What the-”

Dutch placed her hands on Vasiliy’s chest as she ushered him back into Palmer’s office. Myla and Quinlan parted. He wondered for a moment if she regretted letting Vasiliy find them that way. But Myla didn’t seem to worry. She smiled at him in a way that warmed his heart.

They entered the office, and Myla placed the kit and bottle at Ephraim’s side.

“Thanks,” he said, “I can manage on my own.”

“You’re sure?” Myla asked she had been grateful Eph stood between her and the Master in a moment where she could have lost her life. She would have stayed with him if he had asked. But he didn’t.

Quinlan was standing close to her when she stood back up.

“We built that box together, it’s only fitting that we sink it together,” Quinlan said.

Myla smiled and nodded before grabbing her bag and sword and heading towards the elevator where Vasiliy, Setrakian, and Dutch were all waiting.

Vasiliy didn’t say anything to either of them when the elevator doors shut, or when they loaded the Master into the back of the van. Myla happily took a seat next to Quinlan finally feeling satisfied that something bigger was meant for them. With the Master out of the way New York was still a battle ground, but at least she had him, she had his promise, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

 

PIER A BATTERY PARK, MANHATTAN

It was a cloudy day, Myla wondered if it would rain today, it would be fitting to wash away the stench the Master had left the city. But alas, they still had work to do, and she felt a surge of excitement as the van pulled to a stop. The five of them loaded the box onto the carrier, and for a moment she couldn’t help but think about the creature about to spend eternity at the bottom of the sea. She thought about the ancient walled away in Egypt. Was what they were doing mad? Or completely appropriate?

They pushed the box to the edge of the pair, a nearby boat would be perfect for their trip out to sea. Vasiliy was the first to volunteer to retrieve it. But just as he spoke Ellis Island erupted in an orange mushroom cloud that changed the color of the cloudy sky to the color of angry fire.

“Oh shit!” Vasiliy yelled, “Take cover!”

Myla watched everything move into slow time - Vasiliy grabbed Dutch and pulled her aside to cover, Setrakian followed. Myla thought of Quinlan and took no notion of safety as she attempted to push the box further to the water. She was unsuccessful, she could already feel the heat of the blast on her face, she could hear Vasiliy yelling in protest to her actions, and then she felt Quinlan’s arms wrap around her waist as the two of them were thrust into the air and away from the pier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have pre-written the next 2.5 chapters, so I promise I won't make you wait too long. Especially after that ending...


	24. Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now a lot goes on in this chapter, It's setting up my second half of the story. Please bear with me and don't be too mad! :) I have the next chapter mostly written, I will post it in a few days I promise.

Myla awoke on the cold ground, she took in a deep breath but her lungs filled with dust and debris. She tried to cough to expel what she breathed in but she felt a painful throbbing in her head. She could feel blood trickling down the side of her face. Her hand touched her temple, she could feel cut skin that seethed in pain as she touched it. There was a definite ringing in her ears, she looked around trying to find something familiar, but all she couldn't make sense of her surroundings. Buildings were collapsed, trees completely were broken in half or ripped from the ground completely. Beside her was the box... it had been broken open by the blast, hinges torn apart - and completely empty.

She was far away from the pier now, she couldn’t see Vasiliy or the others, so she started to look around for Quinlan. Blood was now dripping into one of her eyes obscuring her vision. She tried to stand on wobbly legs but quickly fell to her knees. So she tried to crawl, eventually, she came across a set of leather dress shoes.

Those shoes belonged to none other than Eldrich Palmer, the Master’s new shell. He looked beaten and scarred from the silver in the box. Out of habit and need to heal, the Master sunk its stinger deep into Myla's neck and carotid artery. Of all the times Quinlan had fed on her, it had never hurt this much or felt this draining. She felt anemic instantly, she couldn’t see her eyes yellowing but she could feel dizziness overcome her, she felt cold and weak. Her breathing became short and she felt her heart kick into overdrive as it palpitated into a frenzy.

It seemed in that moment the Master had realized that he was feeding on tainted blood. He yanked his stinger from her neck and though he couldn’t regurgitate what he had already swallowed, what blood was left in the hollow of his stinger ejected and covered the ground around her.

She was slowly dying, she looked up at the Master wishing she could find the strength to tell him to go to hell.

She hoped her blood would poison him... and with wishful thinking _maybe she had managed to kill him._

Then her vision went black.

* * *

In an attempt to protect Myla Quinlan had hit the ground first, the weight of his body broke apart the pier welcome sign, and as they rolled against the ground Myla slipped out of his grasp, he felt his ribs re-fracture and his wrist sprain when he landed. The sign had managed to match his centripetal motion and as they both came to a stop, the sign fell on top of him. Myla being much lighter rolled away from him and managed to avoid getting trapped, but in a cloud of dust, Quinlan lost sight of her.

For a moment he had lost consciousness, when he came to he tried to push the heavy stone sign away from his body but with his broken ribs, the task became difficult. More debris had piled on top of him now. And as he struggled, pushing with all his might while he kept looking through a small gap to see if he could spot Myla. After a few more moments of struggling, the dust around him finally settled and as he glanced over in Myla’s general direction, his heart sank.

From a distance, he could see the Master, his stinger already sunk deep into her neck, though the bomb had been loud and was still disrupting his senses he did the best he could to search for her heartbeat. At first, he assumed the blast wasn’t going to allow him to hear her, but then he heard her heartbeat, so weak that even he knew she would not survive.

The fear and pain that struck him left blinded with anger. This was what Quinlan had feared all along. All his hatred and disdain for love came rushing back as soon as he realized he’d lost her. HIstory had repeated it'self once more, and he was so angry to realize he had been right to push her away... if she had stayed behind like he had asked her to! If they hadn't become close...

If she hadn’t been so _GOD DAMN STUBBORN!_

As if to plague his madness more, he watched her collapse at the Master’s feet, he watched the Master’s stinger spray blood all across the ground, and he too, much like Myla hoped the silver would kill him. As she fell limp to the ground, her head turned in his general direction, her eyelids were heavy and then shut completely.

Rage coursed through him, Quinlan fought through the pain of broken bones and began to push the slab with what strength he had left, he felt his wrist fracture, as well as another rib before the sign was finally hoisted off himself. Quinlan soon realized Vasiliy had come to his aid. Once the sign was removed Quinlan stood up, his broken wrist wrapped around his broken ribs and Quinlan took up his sword ready to avenge the death of his loved one.

He heard Vasiliy ask, “Where’s Myla?”

Quinlan ignored him. When he turned, Myla’s body was gone, so was the Master.

Dutch was standing beside the coffin, she had been the first one to yell, “he’s gone!”

Vasiliy join her side, he took looked wide-eyed at the coffin, and the professor looked like he would collapse at any moment. Quinlan, however, walked to the last spot he’s seen Myla’s lifeless body. Exhausted and weak, he fell to his knees in the middle of a circle of blood. Her blood. He could smell her everywhere.

The professor came up behind him, Setrakian being smart enough to realize what this was and that no one could have survived this much blood loss.

Quinlan let out a painful cry as he dropped his sword and pounded his good fist into the ground. The cry he made caught the attention of Vasiliy and Dutch both of whom found their way to the bloody site. Dutch covered her mouth in horror as she clutched Vasiliy’s side. Vasiliy stood in shock, he didn’t believe what he saw. He refused to believe this was his sister’s blood, and as Vasiliy slowly slipped into madness, he began to wander around looking for Myla. He expected to find her here somewhere... she couldn’t be dead - after everything she just couldn’t be.

The Professor and Dutch didn’t know what to do. Vasiliy was wide-eyed and silent, Quinlan was clearly filled with rage and too weak to go after the Master.

Dutch was trying to get Vasiliy to listen to her as he turned over tree trunks and stones looking for his sister.

“You saw... what happened?” Setrakian asked Quinlan.

The scowl on Quinlan’s face said enough, and Quinlan shut his eyes briefly remembering the way she looked as the life drained from her eyes.

“Vasiliy! You said yourself we had to get underground or we’ll be glowing!” Dutch yelled.

“That's... that's why - _I have to..._  “

“Vasiliy come on we have to go, love, I’m so sorry, but WE HAVE TO GO!”

“THAT’S WHY I HAVE TO FIND HER!!” Vasiliy shouted, “If I don’t she’ll... she’ll... die out here.”

Quinlan, though filled with rage felt sympathy for Vasiliy for the first time since he’d met the man. They both cared for the same woman. So Vasiliy’s pain was his pain. But Quinlan had been through this before. So had Setrakian. Quinlan knew if they didn’t seek shelter, there would be no one left to avenge Myla.

Myla had once told him fighting for revenge was an empty cause. But for now, it was all he had. It was all he wanted if he couldn’t have her back - he wanted the Master to suffer at his hand.

Quinlan forced the rat catcher to follow them, pushing him back towards the city, looking for the first viable car they could find. Quinlan held open the car door to usher Vasiliy inside then Dutch took the wheel, driving them back to the Olympian.

* * *

Vasiliy didn’t do much but stare at the car floor while Dutch worked her way through the streets. When they had arrived, Vasiliy didn’t register the car had stopped, or that the engine had been cut. He just sat there. Dutch had tried to coax him out of the car, but Vasiliy didn’t respond. Dutch became angry when Vasiliy sat there catatonic. She screamed at him until her vocal chords were hoarse begging him to get out of the car.

“We don’t know if Eph is okay, and we have to start thinking of a new plan.” She was on her knees begging Vasiliy to get out of the car, Quinlan even saw Dutch place a kiss on Vasiliy’s lips to try and rouse him. The professor and Quinlan quickly made their way upstairs thinking some sense of urgency was needed. The professor had told him to pack what they would need, they may need to leave at any moment.

“This is the second occultation the book was talking about, this was the Master’s plan all along,” Setrakian said.

“But if Eichorst is dead, the Master was entombed, who could have committed such a travesty against humankind?” Quinlan asked.

“I don’t know Mr. Quinlan. I fear that we have been unprepared from the start. The Master has always been two steps ahead of me my entire life... this time - I thought we had him.” Setrakian said disappointedly.

“As did I,” Quinlan spoke. “He’s been ahead of me for two thousand years,” Quinlan said. The pain he felt was too immense to keep inside, “He killed my birth mother and the woman who adopted me. He killed my wife, my daughter... and even just two hundred years ago, he took another family from me. I’ve lost everything because of him." Quinlan lowered his head and whispered, "And now her too.”

“We cannot dwell on that now. We can only think of what they would want us to do. Miriam would have wanted me to keep going. To keep fighting, so I will.”

“Myla once told me that we fight not for revenge, but to live for what we once lost.”

“And she couldn’t be more right, Mr. Quinlan. We're alive, and we can stop him.”

The elevator interrupted their conversation. Vasiliy still seemed to be in shock, but he managed to ask Quinlan one question.

“Did you see it?” Vasiliy asked, eyes glued to the floor.

Quinlan didn’t answer, he didn’t want to remember _that_ moment. After a moment of silence, Vasiliy asked again.

“DID YOU SEE HER DIE?” Vasiliy's booming voice nearly shook the room.

“Yes!” Quinlan yelled, “I watched her die!”

“Why... why wasn’t she there?” Vasiliy asked.

“The Master took her,” Quinlan said.

“Why? Why would he do that? Why not just... why not just _let us have her?_ ”

Quinlan didn’t know to answer. His mind just kept telling him over and over again that he should have told her he loved her.

“She could still be -” Dutch started to insinuate.

“No!” Quinlan shouted. “I heard her heart stop - I watched the life drain from her eyes.” Quinlan's good fist slammed onto the table out of frustration. They didn't see what he saw. They didn't know.

“If the master took her it was to toy with us, Mr. Fet. No one could have survived that much blood loss. The only way someone could have _come back_ from that is-”

“No professor. Don’t. Don’t say it,” Dutch begged.

“It’s a small possibility the Master wants to know our plans and where we’ve been staying, That’s why we should be packing, we need to be ready to leave at any moment. The Olympian is compromised. And in case you forgot, we need to get underground, _now_!”

“Where do we go?” Dutch asked.

"I don't know,” Setrakian said, “Somewhere we can wait this out."

Dutch left for a moment Quinlan heard her go into Myla’s room. She came back a moment later with a couple key cards.

“Myla told me how you found this place... we could go to one of these. Key card access only, we could stay in the lower levels,” Dutch said. “We should be safe, at least for the time being.”

“Agreed, Ms. Velders. We leave as soon as possible.”

* * *

Quinlan stood in Myla’s doorway, his bag was packed, looking back at the bed they had shared for a short while. As he stood there, he could smell her everywhere. She was very much alive in this room and he hated the possibility that this place was compromised and that he'd lose her forever. Even if it was just a memory of her.

In the bathroom, he found her olive green shirt she wore their first night together... and now he realized on their last night together. He quickly stuffed it into his bag determined to keep her alive somehow and then he noticed the plant. The small thing she had happily rescued several floors below.

When he met the other three in the hall, they all gave him an odd look at the plant under his arm. But no one asked any questions, they all silently piled into the car and drove to a new undisclosed location. They were beaten, dirty... tired. There was nothing they wanted more than to fight back, but this time, they had lost the battle.

* * *

For several days the world was in turmoil. More bombs went off across the states, people were in complete disarray. Fear had finally taken hold of all humankind. It reminded Quinlan of Rome, the week after he'd lit the city on fire similar events occurred, people were dead, homes and lives were ruined.

_History always repeats itself._

Quinlan had kept a distance from the group as he wallowed in his own misery. Seeing Vasiliy didn't help, the two siblings had been so alike that Vasiliy often reminded him of Myla. The way he would tap his fingers or scratch behind his ear when he was nervous, Myla had done the same things.

Quinlan's body had also become weak from the radiation, it had slowed his healing process, but Quinlan was still strong enough to protect the group from any strigoi or humans that tried to take refuge in their hideout. Soon after the bombs stopped falling, the world grew quiet, and for a few days, there was nothing but empty streets. This was a kind of quiet he knew and understood, he had encountered it many times during his life.

It was a week later when Vasiliy finally decided to speak to Quinlan. Quinlan had returned the journal that had been in Myla's possession. Quinlan had quietly mentioned how the picture in the middle was Myla’s favorite. Vasiliy nearly cried at the image of his sister and his mother at his side. It seemed like a lifetime ago. But Vasiliy simply thanked him and left to get some air for the time being.

Being above ground wasn’t exactly ideal, but the service kitchens here were far enough underground to keep them away from the fallout. They utilized the underground parking structure for keeping more than one vehicle, but for the first time in a week, Vasiliy was eager to risk the exposure for a few minutes if that meant he could feel cold air.

Flipping through his mother’s journal flooded him with memories of Coney Island, the Aquarium, and Myla’s high school performances. He had been in college at the time she was practicing ballet and managed to see many of her shows. Just at the memory of her on stage, he felt his eyes well up with tears as he looked at the red clouded sky overhead. Things were changing here, it had only been a week, and the world was already a completely different place.

Vasiliy and Dutch had quickly ended up in a different place too. Vasiliy was sad Myla was gone, and Dutch was upset the Ephraim had gotten left behind. It bothered them that they were seeking comfort in one another because they were missing other people, but somehow it was better than being alone. They would share a bedroll at night, but they never did more than fall asleep next to one another, it both hurt them and healed them to share this pain with each other. It was peaceful to not be alone in this world, even if it was only for a moment.

 

So after a few weeks time, he had grown accustomed to the dirty blond hair on his pillow.

But Vasiliy's small moments of peace were soon interrupted once Setrakian had a new plan to beat the Master. When the Professor had first mentioned 'the face of God,” Vasiliy didn't know what to think, he thought maybe the old man had finally lost it. But after some deliberation, Vasiliy felt some semblance of hope.

 

* * *

 

Soon, eight weeks had gone by since the fallout and the professor had come up with a full proof plan. Vasiliy with his love of explosives had to agree that a nuclear bomb would wipe anything off the face of the earth. Vasiliy was happy to take a chance to reduce the Master to nothing but ash.

Quinlan had agreed to go with Vasiliy. Both of them were happy to have a mission to distract them, but not too keen on going together. Neither of them knew how long this could take, or how they were going to find one.

But they set out anyway.

The way the further away from the city they got, the easier they seemed to breathe. 

At first, it was like a vacation. It wasn't with someone they particularly cared about, but it got them away from the fallout. Skies became clearer as the two of them drove west. The two of them didn't talk much, but Vasiliy would make a comment or two about the engine or mention when they were low on gas. 

Their first stop along the way was so Vasiliy could get some sleep. Quinlan could tell more than once that Vasiliy had wanted to say something, perhaps about Myla, perhaps just another insult. But either way, the comments were eventually silenced with a couple swigs of whiskey before Vasiliy attempted to fall asleep in the truck bed. Quinlan took this time to go hunting. He recognized that he hadn't had any sleep for quite some time now, and after a couple hours he had only found a small deer to feed on. This left his body and mind in poor condition, not something Quinlan was happy with. 

But what did he expect?

_He missed her._

In the morning once they had refueled and headed down the road Quinlan did attempt to sleep. The moving vehicle didn't bother him, nor did he need a place to rest his head. His body was so tired that sleep came easily to him. But the dreams of Myla that flooded his mind kept him from sleeping soundly. He awoke perhaps an hour later, feeling no more rested than he did before. He adjusted the strap to his goggles and pulled on the collar of his coat as he settled in for another long drive. 

A moment later Vasiliy struggled to speak to him. "You uh-" Vasiliy's knuckles went white against the steering wheel as he took his time getting the rest out. "You uh- said her name."

Quinlan didn't remember ever talking in his sleep, nor did he remember saying anything just now. Quinlan looked at Vasiliy through dark goggles and Vasiliy looked at him with a sad gaze. Both of them turned back towards the road, not saying anything else until they made their way across another state line. Even then, it was only Vasiliy mentioning they would need to siphon some more fuel.

Vasiliy didn't mention anything else that day. The silence was fitting for them, at least for now. Neither one of them were ready to talk about her, but for some reason, the way Quinlan had said her name and jolted awake told Vasiliy that the half-vampire was more human than he gave the man credit for. Quinlan felt pain for his sister's death, and somehow Vasiliy found it comforting that he once again wasn't grieving alone.

 


	25. Survival

6 Months After the Blast at Liberty Island:

North Dakota was somehow colder than the city of New York. Vasiliy and Quinlan had left New York five months ago now.

Quinlan sat outside the van by the fire. Here it was slightly warmer, but his thoughts of Myla plagued him still. Quinlan remembered that he had mourned Tasa and Louisa for nearly thirty years before he found sleep to be restful again. This had been what he feared all along, this pain... this anguish. Quinlan feared that somehow Myla would take much longer for him to forget, he had never seen Tasa or Louisa die, he had only ever released them from the Master. Somehow that brought him some relief, but with Myla he never had such a chance.

Vasiliy slept every night but awoke around three or four in the morning to find no rest had come to him. He would have nightmares, and Quinlan would hear him wake up. Sometimes he would try to fall back to sleep, and sometimes Vasiliy would wake up and join Quinlan on a night like tonight.

Vasiliy placed a new log on the fire, and Quinlan looked up at him. They had become closer since Myla’s death but some days were better than others.

Tonight Vasiliy seemed to be in a particularly bad mood.

“What was it tonight?” Quinlan asked.

“It was the professor. I saw him... infected with worms. He was upset we weren’t back yet. He told me Myla would be disappointed in me.”

“She wouldn’t be,” Quinlan said in response.

Vasiliy bundled his coat closed and put on a hat. His long beard seemed to suit him somehow. His dark hair only reminded Quinlan that his sister’s hair was the same color. Quinlan missed how her long hair would find it’s way across his pillow and he would lie awake buried in her sweet scent.

“How long has it been since you slept?” Vasiliy asked him.

“Six weeks,” Quinlan replied.

“You know that’s not good. We need you on your game tomorrow. You should get some rest.”

Quinlan just shook his head no.

“I know you see her too,” Vasiliy said. “Dreaming is just how a mind copes with things.”

“I only ever see her die,” Quinlan said. “I never dream of the good moments we shared.”

“Yeah well, neither do I. Get some rest and stop moping. We have to find a damn silo or we’re never going to get the bastard that took her.”

“I know,” Quinlan replied.

“Do you?!” Fet asked, his voice was rising, Quinlan had expected an outburst in the next few days, he guessed this one was just a little early. Vasiliy’s anger had become predictable to him now. They would have a few good weeks, and then a night like this one.

“Mr. Fet I suggest we do not do this.”

“I think I suggested you stay away from my fucking family and a long time ago. Now, look what happened.”

“I know, if it helps, I take full responsibility for her death. She should never have come with us that day. I only wish I could have convinced her to stay behind, but she was too much like you, too reckless and stubborn.”

Vasiliy took offense to Quinlan’s comment. His little sister adopting his traits only made Vasiliy more responsible for the outcome of that day.

“What the hell were you thinking anyway? Like you two were gonna live happily ever after one day, huh? Marry her or some shit?”

Quinlan's stood up, he didn’t want to argue tonight he was too tired and too plagued guilt to continue the conversation, but vasiliy stood up and got in his face. Vasiliy fisted Quinlan’s coat and grit his teeth, as he shook the Quinlan, he said the only thing he could to try and hurt him. “She never loved you.”

Quinlan could smell the alcohol on Vasiliy’s breath now. He often had a drink to two to help him sleep, it seemed tonight he had helped himself to the whole bottle. Vasiliy’s drunken state made him forget he was dealing with a half-strigoi but then he felt Quinlan’s hand wrap around the lapel of his coat.

“I am a loyal and determined creature. I would have stayed by her side as long as she asked me to. I would have done anything for her because I loved her.”

Quinlan was angry now. Unable to grieve properly since she had been gone. His hands went from Vasiliy’s coat to his throat.

“I - I tried to push her away to save her. But she was so stubborn and I could be so weak around her. I knew the master would eventually come for her like he has done for everything I’ve ever cared about.” Quinlan eased up on the pressure in which he used to subdue Vasiliy. The mention of love had left them both very silent, and Vasiliy no longer struggled against him. They settled away from each other, as they often did after they argued, neither one wanted to hurt they other, because deep down they both new that they loved her. It was just easier to have someone to take it out on.

“The Master succeeded in taking away those we love, and in this case, he’s managed to hurt us both, two of the most powerful soldiers against him, and he’s nearly destroyed us,” Quinlan said.

“And here we are, freezing our asses off,” Vasiliy mumbled.

“And here we are,” Quinlan said taking his seat back by the fire.

They were both quiet for a moment. The silence once again filtered into Quinlan’s ears, and on a night like tonight he didn’t care to hear it. So he decided to share something with Vasiliy, maybe it would make him understand, maybe it would make him mad.

“You know, I have been married before,” Quinlan said.

Vasiliy had no reply. But he looked at Quinlan, he was listening.

“It had been so long since I felt that love from someone... when I shared it with her... I never intended to let it go as far as it did. But I let it happen, just to remember how it felt. I forgot how it happens so slowly, and then all at once.”

Quinlan never talked much about himself. They mostly shared conversations about Myla. Vasiliy had asked questions about the nature of their relationship months ago, and Quinlan had obliged by answering truthfully. It had reminded Vasiliy of his relationship with Dutch and how they had experienced similar circumstances.

With Dutch on his mind, Vasiliy finally spoke, “I know how that is.” Vasiliy was lonely thinking about her, he paced around the fire before finally saying, “I’m gonna go see Charlotte.”

“Again?” Quinlan asked.

“Again,” Vasiliy said.

“What about Ms.Velders?” Quinlan asked.

“Dutch... yeah. I don’t know. I can’t sleep. Dutch used to help me sleep. But it’s cold, I think I need Charlotte,”

“Need I remind you, Ms.Velders was very much in love with when we left.”

“Yeah and that was five months ago, Q. I - I just need something... someone in my life.”

Quinlan said no more as he watched Vasiliy wander into the next camp. Charlotte had joined them nearly a month ago, and their flirting had slowly escalated into something sexual. Quinlan felt bad for Ms. Velders. She had taken Myla’s death pretty hard and Quinlan thought the love that bloomed from Myla’s death would have made her proud. But now Vasily couldn’t sleep and he didn’t have Dutch, so he found comfort in another.

Quinlan envied him. Since the van would be unoccupied, Quinlan decided to slip inside and lay atop the small mattress as he tried to fall asleep. Quinlan tossed and turned until he finally pulled out Myla’s t-shirt from his back pack. He took off his own shirt before slipping it on. He scent enveloped him once more, and he finally found sleep.

* * *

3 Weeks After The Blast at Liberty Island:

 

Myla was never fully conscious until a week after the bomb went off. She had drifted in and out of consciousness, never really knowing where she was or who she was with. She new she would wake up buried under unspeakable pain, and then she would pass out again, only to wake up cold and weak.

The Master and Eichorst had been determined to turn her. The first couple days they tried stinging her, and by the end of the week they had cut slits down her arms and legs then the Master regurgitated worms until she was completely covered. This was around the time when they had discovered stinger marks on her chest and arm, and more importantly, they noticed the small scars she had between her thighs.

It pleased the Master to know that his Invictus had once again been brave enough to take a lover, that only made the Master more determined to turn her. The look on the Born’s face when he would see her would be worth the extra effort.

However, her silver blood had wounded him considerably, so the Master secretly began grooming Zach to be his new host. With time and training, the young boy would be an efficient human, with a dark soul, the perfect home for the Master to continue his plan. But until Zach was ready, much of his plan rested on Eichorst and Mr. Desai.

Around the third week, she was strong enough to rouse herself to stay awake.

That was when she had learned her fate.

Palmer’s body had already begun to change to a more vampiric form. Myla almost didn’t recognize who was looming above her until she blinked her eyes a couple of times.

Panic fell upon her, Myla looked down to find herself bound. There were bandages down her arms and legs, and she could feel the faint movement of worms under her skin.

“You’ve had the white, haven’t you?” she heard him ask.

Myla couldn’t answer.

“Of course you have. What a pity that it was wasted on you. Had I known that I wouldn’t have wasted my time trying to turn you.”

Myla blinked her eyes slowly. She felt a tear run down the side of her face.

“Fear not, I have a use for you still. You won’t be dying today.”

Then the Master left her. She began to sob. Myla was terrified and in pain.

She didn’t know what he meant, where she was or if the people she cared about were alive.

Myla quickly lost control of herself. She went from sobbing to screaming in agony. But no one came to help. Her own screaming eventually wore on her own ears so she tried to be silent. Then all she could feel were the dying worms under her skin. Myla writhed from discomfort, but eventually she did fall asleep. It was a short couple of hours where relief would find her, but at least this time she had a dream. She hadn’t dreamt of anything or anyone for weeks.

The dream wasn’t of Quinlan or Vasiliy, but rather of her time spent in Virginia. More specifically the first week she had stayed there in a detox facility.

Detox had been the worst experience of her life.

Myla had been at her lowest point. She had given up everything, gone on the run and tried to get clean. She recalled staying awake for three days straight because she could sleep from the chills or the sweats. She had no appetite, and what food she did manage to eat always came right back up. She remembered being in therapy, her therapist had asked her why she left New York and when she thought of Alec’s lifeless body she had managed to vomit all over her therapist's shoes.

When Myla came woke up, she remembered her dream, and as she laid there she realized the worms she could feel burrowing themselves inside her didn’t hurt as bad as she thought. That first week in Virginia would always be worse.

The Master now understood that she had been given enough white to solidify her immunity. He didn’t know anything about her silver intake, but he hadn’t seen a silver child in years. He avoided Egypt for that very reason. They were untrustworthy and unsavory people. However, it seems that the girl knew little of her condition.

He already contemplated just killing her, but Eichorst had already suggested an alternative.

“My Master, may I suggest we still use her to our advantage? She is B positive, and the girl could be kept close by, perhaps a secluded cell in one of the birthing facilities?”

“Ahh, yes Thomas. Brilliant. Send her to Mr. Desai. Make her useful for now, and if the time comes, we will have her, she will be useful should the Born choose to return.”

“Of course, Master. How lucky you were to have found her, she may be useful yet.”

* * *

 

After six weeks, Myla was once again worm free and living in a small cell in another building. She couldn’t walk around, but at least she had a bed with linens and a toilet. She enjoyed this space much more now that she didn’t see Eichorst or the Master. That was until she was brought to her first treatment. No doctor or nurse told her what they were injecting her with, but after a couple weeks Myla realized the ultrasounds and the stirrups only lead to one sort of medical intention.

She knew she wasn’t pregnant but was well aware that the drugs they were giving her made her stomach bloated and her breasts sore. And it wasn’t until her first insemination that Myla realized she had to get the hell out of here.

Her heart beat out of her chest when she took her first pregnancy test.

She shook with joy when it was negative.

The doctors had been disappointed, but they were happy to have had a success rate of fifty percent. Myla’s heart sank into her feet when she heard that. There were... other women here, and at least half of them were pregnant.

After reading the Lumen she racked her brain trying to understand why the hell they’d be breeding humans, and all she could do was picture the lithograph with the slaves under the silver coin. Were they breeding slaves? Or just needing a steady supply of food?

Maybe the bombs had killed more people... maybe their food sources were declining.

Myla also hadn’t seen the city for weeks now, she had no idea that the city was being organized and Strigoi were being integrated under the guise of some sort of collaborative society. She often thought of Quinlan and her brother and wondered how he was doing. Did they know she was alive? Would they try and rescue her?

Myla didn’t know. But as the weeks passed she assumed that a rescue wasn’t likely. After three months of inseminations, doctors were still pleased with their fifty percent success rate. Myla was still grateful not to be one of them.

By the fourth month, Myla had learned and memorized passcodes and guard rotations. She learned that the password rotated every several hours, but after a week they repeated themselves. So she knew the key code every third hour for every other day. She figured a Tuesday or Thursday would be a better day to attempt an escape because the guards on duty were lazier.

One guard, in particular, seemed to be quite lonely. He had spoken about his wife’s passing during the blast that had nearly killed Myla herself. So on a Tuesday, when Garth was on duty, Myla let is slip that she was lonely too and that she had lost someone during the blast. Garth had opened up to her then, confiding in someone who had a similar experience, and one day when he was escorting her back from getting hormone injections, he did something that surprised Myla.

“You know, I’m B positive too, I’m a donor actually.”

“I’m sure you feel helpful,” Myla said with a false smile.

“Well, I was thinking...” Garth’s face became red and he looked at the floor. For a moment Myla pitted him. “There’s no one that stays in your wing of the building... if I were to come in and check your room for let's say, contraband - no one would ask why I was in there if they caught us.”

Myla’s eyes grew wide, “Oh, oh! I see...” she became sick to her stomach at the thought of this man touching her. “If you really want to.”

“Don’t you?” Garth asked, thinking they had more to their relationship than just a guard and a prisoner.

“Yes, I suppose I just wouldn’t want you to get into trouble,” Myla said honestly, Garth wasn’t a bad guy, just someone who took a terrible job.

“It’s no trouble,” Garth said. “I could... in an hour.”

An hour. That was sooner than Myla had planned. She started rattling off numbers in her head to see if she knew all the pass codes for today. She was nervous. She didn’t want to do this... but she had to get out. She couldn’t get pregnant - she was a bigger part of this than anyone knew. The professor needed her, but most of all, Quinlan.

It pained Myla to think of Quinlan, she tried her hardest not to during the day because when she did her mind became flooded with feelings and it was difficult to keep herself from crying. She wondered how the last four months had been for him. Had he turned back into the cold vampire hunter she had met on that boat?

Where was he, how was he?

For the first time since Myla had been a prisoner, thinking of Quinlan had given her strength.

Through it hurt her to say it, “That sounds perfect Garth. I’ll see you then.”

Garth looked pleased, and he smiled at her before he shut and locked her door. Myla had an hour to prepare for whatever was about to happen. She didn’t want to sleep with the man, but for years she had been an exotic dancer. She might be able to distract him with the idea of lust for at least long enough to get his keys and gun.

She hadn’t expected to do this today, but the opportunity was too good a chance. She had to take it.

This would likely mean Garth could be killed.

Myla had to decide if she wanted that blood on her hands or not. He was alone. No kids, no wife. At least he wouldn’t be leaving someone behind. Myla thought back to the night at the Fairy when she had murdered a number of men. She though of Alec... and she heard Quinlan’s voice in her head.

“You did what you had to do to survive.”

One life could mean the lives of thousands. Myla convinced herself that Garth had a chance to live if she made it seem like it wasn’t his fault. But either way, she had to get out of here.

When he came to her cell, he knocked loudly announcing, “hey what have you got there?” Myla nearly jumped out of her skin. She took in a breath and held it. She was nervous, she looked at the clock when he opened the door. 3:16 pm. Code, 1798.

You can do this.

Myla was still surprised when Garth came forward removing his Partnership hat to kiss her. She hadn’t expected him to try and be romantic after all.

Myla kissed him back. Just to play the part. She wondered if she could get him to completely undress and take his uniform. She wondered who the Partnership was. She wondered where Quinlan was.

She had to get her head on straight. Kissing someone was throwing her mind into overdrive. She had a plan. The last hour had been spent remembering an old client. He had been a disgusting man that Myla had never liked dancing for, but now maybe it would come in handy.

“I know... you’re sweet.” she whispered, “but I have this thing where I like it... rougher.”

She felt Garth harden against her stomach, “Oh baby... that makes me so hot.”

Garth spun her around and started to pull down her sweat pants to take her from behind,

“No no, wait, _baby..."_ she mimicked his choice in nickname to lull him in closer, "...like this.” Myla cooed. She pushed him down on the bed and climbed on top of him. Myla quickly placed her hands around his throat and applied pressure.

“Oh...  _oh!_ ” Garth whispered.

Myla nodded her head and ground against his lap to make him happy, all while applying more and more pressure to his neck. She could tell Garth had been looking forward to a little romp because as she ground against him she could already tell he was enjoying himself. Her hands around his throat helped because he was getting less and less oxygen to his brain... and if she applied just enough at the right time she could get him to pass out for about thirty seconds.

The client at the Fairy had often wanted Myla to choke him until he passed out. He always came back after a few seconds and she made enough money with that one client that she could pay her rent. So she stuck with it, and now she was actually grateful she had met such a disturbing man.

Garth, however, didn’t expect what was about to happen, and as Myla applied a forceful pressure Garth fought her, But Myla kept squeezing and realized she had to make it more real.

“Oh, _baby_ I’m so hot for you right now,” she whispered in his ear.

It didn’t seem to help. Garth wasn’t into this, he went to push her off... Myla relaxed her hands and in a quick decisive movement she grabbed the pillow beneath his head, and her other hand reached for his gun.

Before she knew what she was doing she had the pillow covering his face and had put a bullet in his mouth. The pillow had effectively muffled the ring of the gunshot.

Surprisingly, she wasn’t shaking, she wasn’t scared... she just grabbed his gun, taser, and key ring before thrusting open the door and sprinting down the hallway. She glanced at the clock, 3:27. The code hadn’t changed. She made it through the first door with the key code, then the second before she heard the alarms sound. She knew there were cameras here and that was something she couldn’t be helped. She wasn’t Dutch - she couldn’t hack them with a paperclip and a piece of gum.

Myla had finally made it into the employee entrance. She didn’t know how far she had to go until she found an exit but at least here someone had laid out a lab coat and some sneakers. She slipped on the sneakers they were a bit too small for her feet but she would be able to run in them, and maybe, just maybe the lab coat would let her pass by a set of eyes or two just long enough that she could make it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the timelines don't get too confusing, I will try and reiterate when I can. It will be important later. Hope you like where this is going.


	26. Isolation

When Myla made it to the underground parking structure she found that her set of keys did allow her to unlock a white windowless van. She wasted no time climbing inside as she already had several armed guards with guns close behind her. She turned the key, jammed it in drive and started driving. The underground structure wound around a couple of times before she found a closed gate on the ground floor. It wasn’t your normal drop-arm gate, it was a metal gate that closed over the whole opening.

She figured she had one good chance and a small prayer that the gate wasn’t as strong as it looked. She hit the gas and waited, the force in which she hit the gate was enough to rock the van back and forth. But it broke off its track and Myla managed to pull into the street.

For the first time, she saw what The Partnership was.

She had seen pamphlets and guards talk about “The Partnership,” but she hadn’t expected New York to be this...

People lined the streets walking in single file. It seemed like New York was somehow put together in a new communist society. Myla was sick to see people being treated this way, Strigoi roamed the streets keeping them in line, humans were food... now slaves... this is what life had become.

Myla now realized she had no plan of where to go next. Several black vans had pulled out behind her and she was now pushing the pedal to the floor as she flew down semi-empty New York streets. She knew escaping was going to be difficult, but she had never expected so many Strigoi would be outside... during daylight! She needed to lose the hunting party, she was going to have to hide. Soon she realized she was on 32nd if she could make it ten more blocks, she at least had an idea of where she might lose them.

40th came up quickly, but that was around the time the black van’s started to tap her bumper. They wanted her to pull over, to give up. But not when she had gotten this far. At 41st street one van had been bold enough to tap her left tire. She nearly lost control but managed to keep the car on the road.

Until someone hit her on the right side.

The fan was already unstable, and the right hit had managed to flip it onto its side. Luckily the white van skidded to a stop just short of 42nd street. Myla hoisted herself out of the passenger side of the van. She had a couple scrapes and bruises from broken glass but nothing that couldn’t keep her from where she was going. She heard clips being loaded into guns behind her, she knew they would at least give her a warning first, but before she could hear the first word from their speaker system she had thrown herself into a pile of rubble.

42nd street had collapsed months ago, they had started to clear a path through the street, but hadn’t completed it yet. Myla had been here months ago to rescue Quinlan. It was a deep and dark enough man-made cavern that it would be difficult to find her or track her.

She knew they would send strigoi now. They would need their noses to find her... hopefully, she would have found a way out by then. She had to get to the Olympian.

She was silently grateful she had found a pair of shoes on her way out, they were more than useful now that she was jumping over rocks and into unstable piles of rebar and concrete. At least like she felt like she was making headway, she hadn’t heard anyone following her yet. She had to be making good time.

Then she had to stop. There weren’t any lights in this area. Everywhere else had a bit of sunlight or some various safety lights for underground tunnels.

This was where she had switched on her headlamp when she was looking for Quinlan. Which meant this was the large cavernous area she found him in. She stopped for a moment taking a deep breath, she still couldn’t hear anyone behind her, but as she took in her dark surroundings, she could hear someone in front of her.

“Who’s there?” she called out putting up her fists in defense.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.” the voice said. Myla didn’t recognize it. She didn’t know who this was.

“Do I know you?” she called out into the darkness.

A small camping light started to glow in the distance. She couldn’t see who was holding the light. She saw them stand up, pick up the light and then disappear further down the cavern.

“Hey!” she called out. Intrigued, Myla began to follow the light. It was the only think leading her forward, and it didn’t seem to be a partnership goon. “Hey stop!” she called out again.

The light would disappear, then reappear in spots, the concrete and rubble were getting harder to navigate.

“I can’t see where I’m going!” she called out.

There was no response but Myla kept trying to make her way through the rough concrete, she could feel around and every once in a while she had enough light to show her where to go. When the light disappeared completely Myla panicked, she called out one more time with no response. She fumbled her way forward, she went up and over a large slab of concrete then she slipped, she slid down the concrete scuffing the sides of her legs until she fell flat onto a soft surface.

It was dirt. Soft... tilled dirt. It smelled sweet and earthy, somehow reminding her of Quinlan.

“Didn’t think we’d ever see you again.” came the voice from before.

“Who... who are you?” Myla asked.

There came no response. In fact, the echo of her own voice lead her to believe she had imagined the voice this whole time. All that time spent alone had finally driven her crazy. She shut her eyes, she could feel the dirt beneath her, and as she tried to listen no voice came, no breathing... nothing.

She had to be entirely alone.

Then she felt a hard boot hit her square in the back, she fell forward expecting her hands to catch her, but they didn’t.

There was no dirt before her, only air.

She fell forward, and when she landed she realized she couldn’t have fallen more than for or five feet. She felt walls at her side, and then... she felt dirt being piled on top of her. She couldn’t see it was too dark, she started to thrash and scream not caring who heard her - even if that meant being hauled back to a B-Positive living facility.

This was much, much more terrifying than that.

She felt a pinch against her foot, and another pinch at her knee, she felt something cut into her shoulder, then suddenly her skin was on fire... she panicked, and began to scream even louder, but then the dirt covered her face, it got in her eyes... her mouth and her nose, and she couldn’t breath.

Whatever this was, it felt like death.

Then the fire subsided and the suffocation stopped and the dirt made her feel like she was floating in water.

It was peaceful, and for a moment, she hoped this was death.

* * *

Quinlan sighed when they had yet again hit another dead end. This nuclear winter had driven the humans to their more primitive instincts. They ran in packs, they had alphas, betas, and they didn’t take kindly to strangers. Vasiliy and Charlotte often rode in on a motorcycle and tried to work out a deal with the leader. More often than naught, Quinlan had to show up to make sure they didn’t get a bullet in the brain.

Charlotte had suspected a nearby clan would know about a military silo. But again they had no luck. Vasiliy’s nightmares were still plaguing him, and Quinlan wasn’t sleeping. They had been at this for so long that it was starting to seem hopeless.

Vasiliy’s relationship, on the other hand, seemed to flourish. And Quinlan began to wonder if they weren’t looking in the wrong places on purpose. Perhaps Vasiliy had found his happiness out here, while Quinlan was trying to stifle his sorrow.

He was growing frustrated. These humans were kind enough to feed him, even Vasiliy offered a few times, and Quinlan had accepted Vasiliy’s offer, but once he realized he tasted so similar to Myla - Quinlan couldn’t stomach his blood anymore. He took to living off what little their group would give him, and several deer he would catch in the nearby area, at least when he hunted deer, the group could eat too. And Quinlan did like feeling useful to them. At least he was useful in some aspect other than saving their asses.

Quinlan occasionally tried to remind Vasiliy of Dutch and the Professor. But it seemed that Vasiliy had finally lost himself in a haze of alcohol and a beautiful woman. Humans dealt with grief in odd ways, and even Quinlan when he was young thought gorging himself on blood and sex was a helpful way of forgetting about Tasa - but it was only a way to forget, not heal, and it made it worse when he came out of his haze to find the wounds were just as real as they were the day she died, but now they were infected and festering.

Vasiliy was quickly heading in that direction.

It took another night of Vasiliy having a nightmare about the professor before Vasiliy would listen to him. This one had been particularly bad, and even though Charlotte shared a bed with him, Vasiliy still came out for some fresh air.

“I don’t suppose you have any idea where were headed tomorrow?” Quinlan asked.

“No, not really,” Vasiliy said.

“Don’t you think we’ve gotten a little off track?” Quinlan asked.

“No, I don’t I found Charlotte, and she’s great.” Vasiliy said, “What else do we need?”

“A bomb,” Quinlan answered flatly.

“Yeah. Yeah, we’re looking! It’s not like they’re marked on any map.” Vasiliy snapped back.

“But we’re not really looking are we?” Quinlan said. “Our last couple runs have left you and the others with more moonshine than you can drink, and for days we’ve been camping while everyone gets drunk. Don’t you see an issue with that?” Quinlan asked.

“You know what, no, I don't!” Vasiliy said.

“Don’t you think Myla would have a problem with this?”

Vasiliy’s hand's balls into fists at the mention of his sister.

“Don’t... don’t bring her up - she’s not part of this,” Vasiliy asked.

“But she of all people would understand using liquor as an escape,” Quinlan said.

“So what,” Vasiliy said.

“You know what I’m saying Vasily - this is a waste of time. We need to be looking for a silo. If you want to continue on like this, fine. But I’m going to go look, you can stay here with Charlotte, I’m sure you two will be very happy together.”

Quinlan stood up, well and ready to run fifty miles North. He would be there before the sun came up, and it would be an area they hadn’t yet checked.

“It won’t bring her back,” Vasiliy said begrudgingly.

Quinlan stopped for a moment, once again... they were going to talk about her.

‘No. It won't.” Quinlan admitted.  
“So, what’s the fucking point?” Vasiliy asked.

Quinlan took a step towards the man and looked him dead in the eye.

“Because there is a world full of Myla's - bright girls who love someone, and has someone who loves them back. Like Ms. Velders for example. Should we let the Master reign over the world, those girls will die, or the ones they love with die, and this world will be left with nothing but people like you.” Quinlan said. “The world is ending Mr. Fet. I don’t intend to bring Myla back, I intend to keep this from happening to anyone else.”

“So... what,” Vasiliy said. “The worlds over... just let it be over.”

“Do you love Charlotte, Mr. Fet?” Quinlan asked.

“I - I don’t know.”

“Do you love Ms. Velders?”

“I - did?” Vasiliy answered, unsure of himself.

“Did they ever tell you that they loved you?” Quinlan asked.

“Dutch did. But it was so fast... it wasn’t real you know?” Vasiliy said.

“I didn’t know your sister for long either. But she told me she loved me, the day before she died.” Quinlan said. This next part was difficult for him, and Vasiliy could tell - “I couldn’t... say it back.” he admitted. “I wanted to because I did fall for her - I loved her, I wanted to... _live_ for _her._ I wanted to live because I had her.”

“So why not just give up now that she’s gone?” Vasiliy asked.

“Because she’s stubborn... and strong-willed. I would be disgracing her if I chose to sit idly and let the Master have the world he wants.”

Vasiliy chuckled to himself as he though fondly of his sister.

“Your sister gave me a gift I will always cherish. She taught me to love life despite everything it had given back to me. If I wallow in her death, I will not be living the life she wished for me. And I can dare say she would want the same for you. She did love you, after all, you were everything to her - that was why she tried so hard to make you proud and why she got so upset when you held her back.”

Vasiliy sat quietly for a long time as he took in everything Quinlan had said. The damn man had been right, Vasiliy hated him for it - but he realized it was his sister who had changed him. Myla had changed both of them. She died for this cause and no... it couldn't be in vain.

* * *

 

5 Months Post Blast at Liberty Island:

“Lars. Where the hell are we?”

“You really don’t know?” he asked.

“No. We’ve been on this boat for weeks. It’s making me sick.”

“You’re the one who’s been giving me directions,” Lars said.

“You mean they have.” Myla spat, “You know this is new for me.”

“Yeah, and it makes your company rather unpleasant.”

Myla raised an eyebrow completely offended. “I’m unpleasant company? Let’s talk about you - the Sun Hunter with a melted face... The one person who put me in this position!”

“I was waiting for you,” Lars said. “If you really think you happening upon us was as an accident, you’re clearly not listening.”

“You try and having voices in your head and see if you want to listen to the shit they say.”

“I have,” Lars answered. “I’ve been their servant for the last six years. I’m used to it. I accept them. Now at least I don’t have to feed them. Only you.”

“I’m so glad you could graduate from human blood bags to stale bread and fermented cabbage.”

“At least I don’t have to track and hunt your food,” Lars said. “This whole situation makes my job a lot easier.”

“I’m so glad I could make your life easier,” Myla said sarcastically. “I’m going to go throw up again.”

“You throw up again, and I’m going to make you eat the rest of the bread!” Lars called out from the port side of the boat.

“It’s molding!” Myla called out.

“Humans need fuel. Especially a silver child. The task is hard on your body, you need to keep up your strength.”

Myla’s response could be heard in the sound of her hurling her spoiled lunch over the side of the boat.

“We’re nearly there,” Lars said solemnly, trying to somehow make Myla feel better.

When Myla was good and done throwing up her meal, she signed and decided to ask.

“Where’s there?”  
“Egypt,” Lars answered. “We’ll be docked by morning.”

Myla sat down and placed her head in her arms, she could feel every motion of the boat, every slither of the worms under her skin. Lars assured her she could handle this. But every change her body went through felt like hell. At least she wasn’t going to grow a stinger.

Lars tossed a bag of bread at her feet.

“Eat,” he commanded.

“I’m too sick to eat,” Myla replied.

“You’ll feel better in a few days. By then you should feel better than your human self ever did.”

“You keep saying that... but I don’t see that happening. Myla said as she looked up at Lars. She gazed at the burned side of his face. She knew he had received that burn the night the Master tried to kill the Ancients.

“Why keep doing this?” Myla asked. “You could have left me buried back there. You could be on the other side of the world living some kind of life.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Lars said. “This has, and always will be my destiny, as it is yours. There’s no fighting that.”

Myla laughed. “Ha, destiny is it?”

Lars looked at her small form. Her folded arms made her look afraid, she was pale, her body was thinning. He couldn’t tell if it was from the changes her body was undergoing or lack of food. He knew his own creation was strange and confusing. All Sun Hunters were made for one purpose, and one purpose only, her purpose served many.

“You know what I’m referring to. You see it when you sleep, you’ve seen it before you came across our path.”

“What? The end of the fucking world?” she asked.

Lars chuckled to himself as she adjusted the speed on the boat.

“No, your dreams. You’ve been seeing the eyes since you met him.” Lars sighed, he knew Myla hated how much he already knew about her. “The moment you started falling in love with the Born, you sealed your fate. Just as you’ve sealed his.”

Myla scowled at Lars again. She had never spoken about Quinlan to him, she had always kept her feelings hidden, and for him to insinuate such...

“... things I know. It’s crazy to you.” he finished.

“Get out of my head!” Myla yelled.

“Then stop thinking so loudly.” Lars spat back.

Myla grew quiet again, she was fearful every day at what was happening to her. She woke up under all that rubble after five days. She had been sleeping peacefully buried under tilled dirt while Lars kept watching over her, and the ancients, who by the way, were very much still alive.

Myla understood that much, she knew the bomb hadn’t killed them. She knew the bomb couldn’t kill them. The Master was completely unstoppable except in one way. That was why she got on this boat... that was why she had listened to Lars even after he’d tricked her.

Their voices didn’t help either. The ancients knew of Myla’s feelings for Quinlan, and because of those feelings, she had been a valuable asset to the ancients. Only time would tell now if the things she saw in her head were true, but at least she was free from the Master’s grasp, and even though she was alone and broken, she did have the best chance of anyone to end this.

That... she knew to be true.

Myla reluctantly took the bag of bread and forced herself to eat. Lars was right about a lot of things and if she wanted to do this right, she was going to need to get stronger. She tried not to think of her dreams where eyes would haunt her. She tried not to think of Quinlan who made her heartache. She tried not to think of her mother or Vasiliy. 

It was easier not to think. The voices would grow quieter that way. All she wanted was a little peace. But Myla knew down to her bones that she would cross an entire world before she found some kind of peace. She also knew she would start her own war before she ever saw Quinlan again. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. 

It was easier when she didn't think about that either. 

But who was she kidding? None of this was going to be easy. The bread she was trying to swallow didn't even want to go down, how could she take on a race of vampires when she couldn't even get her strength back?

 _"Don't quit."_ she could hear her brother say. _"Keep doing what you're doing, and you'll be home before you know it."_ It had been a voicemail he left on her cell phone while she was in treatment. It became her mantra when she thought about relapsing. That wasn't such a bad voice to have in her head.

"The Sun's almost up," Lars said.

Myla nodded, set aside the bag of bread and headed to the lower deck. She climbed into her dirt filled sarcophagus and laid her head against the damp earth. She took a deep breath and wished for a dreamless sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this ride starts... now! thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed.


	27. Conversion

It was still light out when Myla came out of the confines of her box. She always felt uncomfortable in the daylight now. Lars said it would get easier, but Myla wondered if she would ever see that day.

She grumbled, complaining about the light, and Lars tossed her a black cloak. It helped shield the suns rays and ease the irritation under her skin. She noted several signs, several boats, and others wandering across the docks. She imagined that the world’s plague wasn’t as rampant here. But as she and her companion walked through the city of Alexandria, she noted the boarded windows, the abandoned vehicles... the plague was here too, and clearly so was the devastation of a nuclear misunderstanding.

Lars would disappear into buildings and come out again, the first time he had obtained a sack full of fruit, and the keys to a new sedan. Clearly, the ancients had ties with many organizations as it was easy for Lars and Myla to travel from Kafr El-Dawar to Tanta where Lars picked up another package, and finally to Cairo.

By the time they had arrived night had fallen, and Myla felt considerably more comfortable. She felt strange having arrived in the middle of a country, smuggled in by a Strigoi servant. She felt so far from her family, but somehow she knew this was where she was supposed to be.

And that scared her.

They parked the car in a hidden garage and set off on foot again. At night the streets were deserted, and both Lars and Myla were highly aware that Strigoi were roaming the streets. They were able to stay hidden, it seemed the Strigoi could no longer scent her, it was as if they were two ghosts wandering the empty streets humanity once inhabited.

Myla was awestruck the moment she could see the Pyramids appear from behind several tall buildings. They were magnificent, and she was excited - but then she thought of Quinlan and how they were supposed to see them together. She had to push Quinlan from her thoughts, every time she thought of him she felt pain. She missed him, and she could tell there was something inside her that hated him.

While Myla stood, staring at the great wonder. Lars seemed to become frustrated and lost. He had brought her to a building that looked like it had been destroyed with explosives. This was where they had traveled so far to come, and nothing was here.

Myla took a deep breath and finally listened to the small whispering voices, they told her to go West.

Lars followed without asking questions, and soon they were wandering in the desert. It was cold at night, Myla wrapped her cloak around her tighter, but was still surprised to find that she didn’t need much more than a thin layer to keep warm. Her body was changing, that she was aware of.

Myla led them to a small cut tomb in the middle of the desert. It was clearly a place that had been excavated but ignored by tourism. Myla looked at the worn sandstone and could barely make out the old corroded image of a circle the symbol inside was gone, but she had a feeling she had seen it before in the pages of the Lumen.

She didn’t even get to step inside before she felt a boot hit her sternum.

Myla flew back, she skid across stone and landed in the sand. Lars raised his pistol and aimed it down the dark corridor.

Out stepped a man towing over six feet in height. He was wearing combat boots and military issued tactical armor. He held a semi-automatic rifle which kept Lars from firing any rounds.

“Who are you?” came a deep voice.

Myla was still trying to get her breath back, the wind had been knocked out of her and she wheezed as she clutched her chest.

Myla couldn’t answer, and Lars was on the offensive.

They were silent for an awkward moment.

Myla wheezed and looked up at the man. She remembered the training Quinlan had put her through - rooftops, gravel, she only wished she had her sword. She’d lost that the day the bomb went off.

With a powerful swipe of her leg, Myla brought down the tall man with little effort. He hit stone quicker than Myla had. She was quickly atop him with a knife to his throat, Lars was behind her, backing her up with the firearm.  
“Who the fuck are you?” Myla said.

The man looked at her closely, and after a few seconds, his eyes seemed to recognize something within her. Myla watched him smile and her grip loosened on his neck.  
He chuckled to himself. “Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

Myla backed up. She wasn’t surprised when he didn’t retaliate. She moved back behind Lars, taking comfort in his protective stance.

“They said you were coming, but prophecies, they never seem to happen.”

“Until they do,” Lars added.

“Clearly.” he said, “the name’s Lance.”

“Lance.” Myla said, “Mind telling me why you thought kicking me was a good way to say hello?”

“Yeah uh,” Lance rubbed the back of his neck, “it’s kinda my job.”

“Your job for what?” Myla asked.

“I’m a guard, this is a tomb.”

“A tomb?”

“And you were trespassing,” Lance said with a smile.

* * *

Lance had brought the two of them a few miles into town.

Lars and Myla were now sitting at the end of a long table. Across from them sat three men, one was Lance, the other two had yet to introduce themselves. They seemed to be studying them... almost waiting for something to happen.

“There’s no way she carries all three.” one of them whispered.

“I’m sweating. But she’s not even sweating.” the other said.

“This can’t be the right person.” 

“Unless...”

“Unless she never truly accepted them.”

“Excuse me, but what the fuck are you two talking about?” Myla asked. “Cause if it’s about me, it’s rude to talk about me like that when I’m in the room.”

“Forgive us, it just seems Lance here... might have made a mistake.”

“There’s no mistake,” Lance said. “I saw one, crawled right under her skin, even make my skin crawl a little bit.”

“Just one?”

“There’s three.” Lars interrupted.

Myla slammed her fists on the table.

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here!” she exclaimed.

“Are you here?” one man asked.

Myla and the man locked eyes. Her intensity was building, and it seemed the other man knew it. He quickly stood and gestured for Myla to follow him. Lars stood to come along, but the man asked that he stayed behind.

Myla was hesitant and aggravated. But maybe this man would be more talkative then Lars. Lars was about as talkative as a dead parrot.

Myla reluctantly followed the man into the hall. Somehow she felt better leaving the room, at least she was no longer under scrutiny.

“What I mean is, am I really talking to you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Myla said. “I am me?”

“And I am Asim. I have looked over this organization for over forty-five years. And I must say, I’ve never met someone quite like you.”

Myla and Asim walked forward, the motion making them both feel more at ease.

“I’m not sure what that means,” Myla said.

“We’ve kept tabs on all the ancients for the last thousand years. And when we lost sight of them... we felt slightly uneasy. We fled our old hideout, came here and have been hiding ever since. Then just a few months later, all three of them suddenly return... we assumed they had found a host.”

“Yeah, thanks to Lars, I uh, bit that bullet,” Myla said.

“And with all three of them... you’ve been coping?”

“It’s been fine. Take away the dirt naps and nothing had really changed.”

“Then you haven’t accepted them. That’s good... that means you’ve held onto your humanity.”

“What are you saying?” Myla asked. Asim and Myla finally made their way outside and under the night sky the moon felt good against her skin, the stars reminded her of Quinlan.

“I’ve seen only two people take on the burden of carrying an ancient. I’ve never seen someone take on three, and I’ve never seen someone fight them off as well as you have.”

“I haven’t... fought any-”

“You know the anatomy of a stinger?” he asked.

“No... I’ve seen drawings... but I’ve never understood the process.”

“The stinger is adapted from the human lung, we children use our silver to avoid any major physical changes, but the lungs are the first place to change. That's why you can sleep under the dirt, why you can carry on a conversation or fight without getting winded.”

“This is all new to me, believe me, I’ve read the Lumen, and this whole story you spin isn’t in it.”

Asim stopped walking and shook the sand from his shoe, he smiles and looked at Myla. “The silver children have been around for centuries and centuries. But around the 22nd dynasty we... betrayed the ancients. But for good reasons.”

“The one who was entombed,” Myla said.

“Yes. One of them, much like the master, came after humans with a malicious intent. One of our followers, and coincidentally Lances ancestor, managed to trap him in her body and bury herself, taking the ancient one with her. They both rest in the very same tomb you wandered into earlier tonight.”

Myla stopped for a moment, thinking about the voices that led her to that tomb. She wondered what would happen if she really did give in and listen to them.

For a moment she took in a deep breath taking in what Asim was telling her.

“She... just decides to take that on, or was she forced into it?”

“Women... tend to be trained to bear the burden of the red worm. For some reason their ability to bear children allows them to stay in control of themselves. When men have taken on the burden... it has resulted in madness.”

Myla chuckled to herself.

“So it mattered that she was a woman?”

“Yes, women... are stronger in many aspects. And as silver children, they better aided the ancients. But ever since Acenath took on the burden, the ancients have shied away from our abilities. We used to house them, we were their servants, we were loyal...” Asim paused and Myla listens patiently as she wondered what had come of her predecessors.

“... They no longer wanted our help once they learned that Acenath had the true power.” Asim sighed. “The ancients haven’t trusted us for centuries. But we were once very close. They learned that they could infect humans to do their bidding, and they have since only trusted the Sun Hunters.”

“Silver Children keep their humanity... their ability to say no,” Myla said softly.

“Some do, yes. And that was what bothered the ancients. The Sun Hunters are carefully selected and chosen for their purpose, and the worm makes their connection nearly unbreakable. This became the norm, silver children were no longer needed, And for years we have done nothing but guard Acenath and her body.”

“She.... was the start of all this... the Silver Children?” Myla asked.

“The Silver Children have been around for a lot longer than Acenath. It used to be a ritual tribe, a sacred practice. The Egyptians coveted gold, but Silver... was religious. The first silver child was said to drink from the river that ran from the Mountains in the Eastern Desert. Electrum ran through the rivers there, a natural form of silver, and when they made tea, they were unknowingly making themselves desirable vessels for the ancients.”

“So... I’m just carrying them from place to place.... because why? They want to run away from the Master?” Myla asked.

“Running may no longer be an option,” Asim said.

“I will not recommend it. But only the ancients know why they chose you for this voyage. You could ask them for answers. But keeping a distant allows you to keep control of your mind and body.”

Asim looked worried.

“No one has ever carried such a burden as you, and I fear that if you give into them, you will lose all that you worked for. In the end, you will not be able to survive their loss, but while they live inside you, you will grow strong.”

“So I just wait around until their done with me?” Myla asked.

“It is what we have always done,” Asim said. “I apologize for the third degree. We must be careful who we let into our home. Here we are safe and letting in someone like you... jeopardizes that.

Asim looked back towords the building they had just come from. “Lance has been loyal to us, Aziza tends to be a bit more reserved. He believes your containment of three ancients is reckless and dangerous. But in times like these when it matters that one knows what is destiny and what is dangerous.”

“I understand that this is dangerous, I’ve known that ever since I went back to New York.”

“Yes, but it is the difference to understand that love is the death of duty. And which will you choose?”

Myla was silent. She didn’t know if Asim knew about her ties to Quinlan, or her family.

“Am I to just die?” Myla asked.

“The burden you have taken on will change you, and ultimately, destroy you. But if the prophecy is true, you could be the one to stop the Master... if they are ready the end could be near.”

Myla looked at the stars one last time before she looked back to Asim’s cold demeanor.

“There are texts we have, ones that carry more answers than the Lumen, I could show you, and that could help you make the difficult decision you now face.”

Myla looked to the ground. Grains of sand entangled in her feet, every small grain reflected a life she could now protect. In a small memory, she thought of Quinlan and Vasiliy. She saw the determination written on their face, and if she could use her predicament to stop this... then she owed that much to those she loved.

“Yes,” she said. “Teach me all that you know.”

* * *

 

 

Thank god, finally a real bed. Myla had taken much of what she learned to heart, and she realized she had to hold onto her humanity. She no longer felt like Lars had her best interests in mind, she knew now that she was getting confused with his interest in the ancients. Myla assumed the dirt box she’d been sleeping in was more for their benefit, not hers.

At least now she had some answers. They may not have been the best words to hear, but at least she didn’t have to wonder what she was anymore.

The Silver Children.

Myla had been taken aback by the Sun Hunters and their clandestine existence in the world, but the Silver Children have been hidden longer than any other organization. Somehow she had fallen into the middle of it.

Myla flopped back into the feathered pillows and sighed.

What could she possibly be strong enough to do?

Those before her had managed to do something... they had control, they had a chance. Asim had told her much about the ancients, and tomorrow she was to spend the day in their sacred library. But all she could do was think about the page int he Lumen that depicted the Silver Children as slaves.

Who could she believe? Lars, who had been looking after her and feeding her for weeks, or Asim, who believed she had a chance to make a difference.

Myla slowly started to fall asleep as she thought about her future. And soon she found herself in a dream where she was found before the three ancients. This was New York. She had been here once before.

In her dream she looked to her left, Quinlan was nowhere to be seen, only the ancients on their podiums, looking down at her silent and ominous.

_She stared at them._

_They stared down at her._

_The dream seemed to go on forever. The silent stares. Until one of them spoke._

_“We have as many eyes and as many tongues as there are men on earth.”_

_Myla was struck with fear. She had been hoping they would never say anything._

_“We were once grand... we ruled... we were one.”_

_Myla took in a breath, she tried to muster the courage to speak. Then another ancient added to the conversation,_

_“Our power is gone in this world...”_

_“What do you want from me?” Myla asked._

_“We are Sariel. We were seven. We were once strong.”_

_“What can I do?” Myla asked. “I don’t know how I can help.”_

One of them reached out to her, their long arm crested her head and she felt the heat radiating from its palm. Myla embraced the touch when she remembered how warm Quinlan felt. She remembered the way she would curl into him, soaking in all his heat. Sariel’s palm seemed to contain the heat of the sun, and as Myla remembered her love, and embraced the touch, she felt her inner core warm and start to burn.

Myla sat up, panting. She was in her bed, sheets soaked as she felt her new body temperature for the first time. She easily would read at a hundred degrees, and then some. She was still panting as she was well aware that all three voices she heard in her dream were now in her head.

Sariel was real, and they were inside her.

Myla tried to slow her breathing as she became aware of the slithering feeling underneath her flesh. She was carrying them. And now she knew... she could hear it with every whisper.

Sariel was broken and tired... having been alive for thousands of years and living no real life, the ancients were now eager to fight against their brother. And Myla somehow knew it was key they all find each other. She was lead here to find Sariel’s siblings. The ancients wanted to be together again, they were always meant to be this way, and Myla was now the only one who could do it.

Myla wasn't sure what she was doing at that moment, but she had embraced the ancients. She wouldn't know the consequences of this until later, but for now, Myla knew that ending the Master's reign was more important than seeing Vasiliy or Quinlan ever again. If death was her destiny she would greatly accept it if it meant she could save their lives.

She was only human. Myla felt hot tears stream down her face as she thought of never seeing Quinlan or Vasiliy again.

She never knew Love could be the death of duty. 

She only knew that Love was what made her human. Love was what made her determined to save the world. They already thought she was dead anyway. If she had to die to end it, then where was the harm in that?

The harm was that she had accepted the red worm further into her body. She let the ancients become louder, and she made a promise to herself that she would do what she could to end it. The whispers in her ear were no longer sent to the back of her mind. She was listening to them. 

Myla slid out of her bed and found herself wandering down the hall as a zombie. She was no longer in control of her body, for a short time she had relinquished all control to Sariel. And they wanted to be in their tomb filled with soil and silence. Asim had given her a bed, but Myla knew her soil coffin had been brought here by Lars. And when she found it, she felt complete. She felt like she was home. 

She had a plan now, Lars would play a part. So would The children. 

She was a host for the ancients, and she wasn't going to waste that opportunity. Together they were stronger, together... they were unbeatable. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I'm moving, and I wanted to push something out even though I'm busy. I'm going to do one more Myla chapter and then move on to some NYC shit.


	28. Duty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Myla takes on two more ancients with the promise of going home being just around the corner. As she moves forward in this new life she often thinks of those she left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh it's been a while, sorry finally settled in a new home. Crazy last few weeks, sorry to have not posted more, here is a longer chapter.

Istanbul was hot. It was unseasonably warm, and Myla figured the nuclear winter had evidently affected the Earth’s temperature. It didn’t help that she was still getting used to her own new body temperature.

Myla sighed and looked back at Lars. The two of them and several silver children were quietly slipping through the bricked streets of Istanbul. It was another city on her list of places to see. She had started to list them off in her head the longer she was away from Quinlan as if somehow he would appear there with her.

But he never did.

Sariel, however, was quick to chime in and remind Myla of her purpose.

They were here to collect.

The ancients in the old world were hidden well. But as they grew closer, Myla could hear them. Lars could too.

Myla had never told Asim that she accepted the ancients. If she had told him... Asim wouldn’t be making arrangements for their return trip to New York.

She needed the Silver Children to be in the dark for just a little longer.

“Here.” she heard them say. “This is where another lies.”

Myla took a deep breath and wandered into the lower cavern. It was dark for several minutes, but Myla knew right where she was going. With a cloaked hood and a small following, soon she came to the chamber of the old world ancients.

The Silver Children had only expected one of them to be here. But Myla known there were two.

Like a memory from New York, the ancients looked at her with a stern gaze. Much like Lars, Myla could now communicate with them using only her mind. The Silver Children stayed silent as Myla spoke.

_“You were once one. Of many eyes and tongues.” Myla said addressing the tall beings._

_She felt them agree with her._

_“If you grow tired of this life, another one awaits you. Beyond this life.” Myla said._

_“You listen to their lies... there is no life beyond this...” they hissed._

_Myla felt Sariel come through her, “If you had spent as much time in the dirt as we did you would know...”_

_She could hear the audible hiss that set the Silver Children on edge._

_“We have an alliance.” Sariel hissed back._

_“With a silver child!” they said almost laughing._

_“She is different. She understands the cost.” Sariel whispered._

_Myla once again heard laughing in her head._   
_“I am Luidmyla,” she spoke independently. “I serve the ancients, just as I serve you. Our bond is mutual, as I understand my role in this is death.”_

They were silent for a moment as they wondered if this was a trick.

_“We lost one brother to your kind... why would we risk our life with you?” they asked._

_“Because I’m your only chance,” Myla said again._

_Their conversation was still happening telepathically._

_Lars could hear them. But not the Silver Children._

_“We are a partnership,” she heard them say. “If we want the things we dream, we must follow this path. Or face a thousand years in silence.”_

_“A thousand years?”_

_“Our brother will see to that,” Sariel answered. “We are destined to another thousand years of dust and rot unless we make the decision to go back home...”_

_“Home,” they asked hopefully. Myla couldn’t help but hear the yearn in their voice._

_“Home,” Sariel answered._

_Myla could feel their desire grow. Myla knew the three ancients she carried had an agenda. But she didn’t know what home meant. She only knew they craved it._

_“I am determined to take you there,” Myla added._

_“But you are... distracted. You... love another.” They detested._

_“What can you promise when you still wonder about him...?”_

_Quinlan flashed through her mind. She heard them whisper..._

_“Him!”_

_“Yes, him,” Myla hissed back. “It is because of him that I give my life to you. My love should help you understand why I choose this fate.”_

_“The born!” she heard them scoff. “He is incapable of such feeling.”_

_“That's...” she faltered in her thoughts for a moment. That comment had stung, but if anything it made this easier. It never mattered then, so it shouldn’t matter know how he felt. “That’s not the point. Myla said. You all want out of this... out of this so-called curse. If you stay hidden away the Master will only come looking and bury you away.”_

She heard them hiss.

_“You know it’s true. It already happened in the New World. They were lucky to have found me.”_

_“Lucky? The last time we trusted your kind you locked our brother up and buried him deep beneath the sands...”_

“But this is different,” Myla said out loud. “We do not seek to imprison you. We seek to free you.”

_“Death.” they hissed._

“A true death.” she challenged.

* * *

 

One week later.

Myla was now sleeping through half the day, and half the night. The ancients were more comfortable, more awake at night. And she too was more powerful when the moon was above them. She did still like her few hours in the sun however, it was nice to have some time to herself. It seemed to be the bridge that kept her from slipping into madness.

Asim had convinced her that two more silver children should share the burden that Myla carried. She still only carried three red worms, and two women had taken on the burden of the other two worms. Dandera and Halima had volunteered, both of them had traveled to Istanbul and undergone their ritual to accept the worm.

Myla had been the one to unearth them the next day.

Sariel didn’t much care for this plan, they craved to be one so badly that they had argued against using the hosts. Myla had disagreed and further worked on gaining Asim’s trust. Losing control to the ancients wasn’t something Asim could risk - and Myla couldn’t let on how much power she had already given them.

It was a plan weaved by a few lies - but ultimately would result in the same goal. At least she hoped it would.

Myla knew that Acenath would have to be unearthed as well. But even the ancients weren’t hard to convince that waiting to open the sarcophagus wasn’t a good idea. Myla got the sense that they too still feared him in some way. The would come a time when they would be together, at least now they could bask in one another’s proximity.

Their proximity produced a power that everyone could feel.

Even Lars had started to grow on Myla in the months they had spent together now. Perhaps Sariel had convinced her that his brash and cold demeanor wasn’t so bad. It was his protection they needed, after all, not a conversation.  
He had however started to bring Myla better food, and often ask her if there was anything specific he could bring her.

She would ask for fruit, something salty, and a pack of cigarettes.

He only ever brought her the first two.

It seemed that everyone felt the power of the ancients now that they were collectively under the same roof. Even Acenath’s sarcophagus had been moved to the Silver Children’s hideout. Soon she too would be loaded onto a boat, and they would sail back to the US.

The closer and closer the day came to sail, Myla became more and more anxious. She hadn’t seen Quinlan for so long, and she honestly never expected to see him again. Though... part of her prayed for it to happen.

The day before they set sail, Lars had brought her some food. Myla was in a particularly sour mood when she saw him. The sun was still shining, the Sariel was quiet, and she had been wallowing in the past.

“Here,” he said dropping a sack onto the table in front of her.

Myla rifled through it. An apple, a tomato, crackers... still no cigarettes.

“How fucking hard is it to get what I asked?” she said.

“I got what’s fresh. That is not easy to do around here,” he said sternly.

“Cigarettes don’t need to be fresh, they can be stale as shit! But you never bring me any.”

“You don’t need them,” he said.

“Fuck you. Who are you to say what I need? You certainly thought you ‘needed’ me for your little project back in New York. Now I’m here!” she said raising her voice. “Thank’s to you, I’m as good as dead, I had escaped that day!” Myla stood up and pressed her finger into Lars’ coat. “I had taken my chance to live and YOU took that away from me.”

Lars pulled an unopened pack of cigarettes from his vest pocket and tossed them onto the table.

“You saying you would take it back now that you know what’s meant to happen?” he asked.

Myla looked at the pack of cigarettes and then back at Lars.

“You’ve had those this whole time?!” she asked nearly screaming at him. She took one out and pulled a match from her pocket lighting the cigarette. The smell quickly reminded her of home.

She scowled at Lars as she took in a deep drag. She was quick to cough and hack up every last bit of smoke she had just inhaled. Her lungs were on fire, she couldn't even take in the fresh air. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and clutched the end of the table trying to breathe.

Lars hunched over her waiting for her to breathe in. Myla pushed him away.

“I’m fine!” she spat.

Lars blinked at her. He knew she was fine. He knew what that cigarette would do.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Myla asked. “You could’ve just-”

“No. I couldn’t. You hold onto what you were very tightly. You think of them often, you reach to your past to push you forward in the future. You’re going to have to let that go.” Lars said.

“How... why would I do this if I wasn’t doing it for them?” she spat. She was nearly crying now.

“You had to see for yourself that you’re not the same person you once were. You can’t see how much you’ve changed on the inside, but you can feel it. They are a part of you. They are a part of me.”

“We both know this only ends in death,” Myla said. “If we can even get there.”

“We WILL get there.” Lars corrected. “Do it for them, fine. But don’t do it as Myla. She is dead to them. She should be dead to you.”

“I know she will be,” Myla whispered. “After this, I will cease to exist.”

“Good. Remember that, and it won’t be so hard for you.”

“Just because that’s how you live doesn’t mean that’s how I have to live.”

“You still want to see them,” Lars said. “Your duty needs to come first. You’re treading a very fine line here.”

Myla broke down now, tears streaming down her face.

“They already think I’m dead.” Myla croaked.

“Then let them think that,” Lars said. “You don’t have to be her anymore. Whatever you are when you get on that boat has one purpose and one goal.”

“Yes,” Myla said. She sniffed and sighed, her lungs still burned. “Lars?” she asked.

“Hm?”

“How much have I changed?”

“Want to find out?” he asked picking up a spear from a nearby weapons rack. Myla smiled and nodded just before Lars tossed her the spear. She caught it with ease, it was nearly weightless in her hand.  
“Something to focus on...” she told herself.

* * *

 

“You think he’s gonna talk?” Dutch asked hesitantly. She was wringing a paper in her hands. Being back to that facility had put her on edge, and seeing Sanjay Desai again had been more difficult than she had led on. Quinlan could tell though. She was exhibiting behaviors any human would when faced with a past trauma.

“If he doesn’t, we will find out just how much he loves his wife,” Quinlan said.

“You didn’t,” Dutch said flatly.

Quinlan made no response.

“We discussed this!” she said.

“And I made my own decision,” Quinlan stated. “It will be quick and efficient. I am not letting the master slip through my fingers one more time just because one of his sympathizers doesn't have the nerve to talk!”

“Whoa, whoa, easy there Borno.” Vasiliy said, “We get it, Desai will talk, I don’t think we’re gonna need the girl.”

“I’m still not comfortable taking chances,” Quinlan stated.

“Yeah, Borno, I get it, let’s just do this, alright?”

“Do not hurt that girl!” Dutch said standing in-between them. “We don’t know her part in this - she could be innocent, and she should be treated like those other women, we should work on helping them.”

“They’ll be free when the Master is dead,” Quinlan said.

“With Desai gone that place will fall apart, they’ll be free to leave in a few days,” Vasiliy added.

“That’s what you think?” Dutch asked appalled. “Sorry loves but it wasn’t you two who spent three months in there. You don’t know what it’s like hearing these women talk about their children, and how happy there are that they’re pregnant! And to have to watch... while a newborn is ripped was it’s mother’s arms was more sickening than being in Eichorst’s chamber-”

“Dutch - Dutch!” Vasiliy said trying to calm her down, “I know. That place is a bad place, we’re going to make sure we do right by everyone, okay, but first we gotta start with Desai.”

“Or we could research the Master’s other followers. I brought Desai’s records, I could find a few passwords, see who else the Master’s been working with. The professor did say we had to take down ****

“But if Desai knows where he is we won’t need them!” Vasiliy said.

Vasiliy watched Dutch recoil from disgust. She sat down clearly flustered as she started to sift through the paperwork on the table.

Ephraim walked into the room. He hesitantly kept his distance from Dutch, since Vasiliy and Quinlan had been back in New York, Vasiliy seemed to carry some kind of protective stance when he was around Dutch. Even though neither Ephraim or Vasiliy were still sleeping with her, things were awkward between the three.

“How’s Zach?” Vasiliy asked.

“Fet, we should get started.” Quinlan interrupted.

“Yeah, but this is about a kid, hold your horsed Borno.”

“He’s... a bit agitated being stuck in that room,” Ephraim said.

“As we discussed it is in our best interest,” Quinlan said.

“I know. I know.” Eph said back in a whisper, almost as if he was afraid Zach would hear them from the other room.

“I just came out to see if you had talked to him yet.”

“No, we were about to, but it seems many of you are rather keen on interrupting,” Quinlan said agitatedly.

“Easy, Q. We got him, don’t worry,” Vasiliy said with a mournful glance. Since they had returned Both Eph and Dutch had noted the pair's friendship. Dutch remembered when they left together, the two men were often at odds with one another. But now Fet had nicknames for Quinlan, and Quinlan didn’t speak to Fet like he was stupid. *****

“I told you two we should be playing it differently. I go in, then Q. Good cop, bad cop... you know?” Dutch said.

“Or...” Eph said, “You guys could take a look at this.”

Dutch irritatedly grabbed the paper from Eph’s hand. She felt protective of these women, she looked down expecting to see a familiar face.

And she did.

It just wasn’t a face Dutch thought she would ever see again.

“Fet, let’s get this over with,” Quinlan said turning away to walk down the hall.

“Fet... look!” Dutch said, Fet took the paper and felt his stomach sink slowly into his feet as his heart rate rapidly started to climb. Quinlan didn’t care for the newfound distraction, but the looks of shock and the steady thump of Vasiliy’s heart made him stop walking down the hall.

Quinlan turned, he looked at Vasiliy. Something was wrong.

“What? What is it?” Quinlan asked thinking they had, in fact, found the Master’s hiding place.

Vasiliy said nothing, his eyes were unmoving as he moved his arm, paper still clutched in his hand.

Quinlan grabbed the thin piece of paper. Instantly he recognized the printed photo of Myla. Her sunken eyes and ratty hair didn’t keep him from seeing the woman he had fallen in love with.

Quinlan’s eyes scanned the rest of the page. What was he missing? How was she alive?

Quinlan was silent for several minutes, Vasiliy too. Dutch and Ephraim were quickly scouring through old notes and logs trying to trace a path that involved Myla.

“What does it say damn it?!” Vasily asked.

“I’m looking Fet!” Dutch said fearful to see Vasiliy so angry. Dutch hadn’t seen either of them this taken aback since Setrakian died.

Ephraim was the first to find something concrete as medical terms were easy for him to recognize.

“She was undergoing treatment...” Ephraim said.

“In one of those fucking places?” Vasiliy asked.

“It seemed that she was one of the facilities earliest patients.” Ephraim finished. “She underwent three inseminations.”

If Quinlan’s stomach hadn’t been an entirely different organ he may have experienced what humans did when they ate something unpalatable. The thought of her surviving the Master’s grasp... being forced into his slavery... baring children for his feeding purposes...

“Is she alive?” Quinlan asked simply.

“It doesn’t say,” was Dutch’s only answer.

“What do YOU MEAN IT DOESN’T SAY!?” Quinlan asked, this time his voice was raised enough to alert Zach and Mr. Desai that someone was incredibly angry in the next room.

“It... doesn’t say,” Ephraim added. “It’s been six months since these files were updated, it’s like she...”

“Like she what?” Vasiliy and Quinlan asked in unison.

“Like... she doesn’t exist,” Ephraim said. “If she was a patient... there would be updates on success rates and failures, health, stats, her daily routine...”

Vasiliy was speechless as he took the paper from Quinlan’s hands, assuring himself that it was, in fact, his baby sister photographed on the photocopied page.

“I know someone we can ask,” Quinlan said sternly before strutting off down the hall.

He felt a few things at that moment. He felt as though he’d let Myla down. This possibility that ran through his head as he remembered the Master’s stinger in her neck. To survive such an attack would have been difficult enough, but to be imprisoned in a birthing facility... Dutch had told him enough to know that it was not a place Myla deserved to be.

He felt pain as he felt his feelings for Myla come rushing back into his heart.

He felt sorrow for not being able to know she was alive. She must have hoped he would come rescue her.

He had failed her.

But he would fix this. Desai would tell him where she was.

“Quinlan wait!” was something Quinlan heard but didn’t choose to register.

He was going to rip Desai’s wife apart if he had to. He would find out where they were keeping Myla. It had been too long, and he owed her that much. He would find her. Save her.

When Quinlan entered the room, Desai knew something was different. Desai had mentally been preparing himself to be questioned... even tortured, but the crazed look in the half-breed’s eye was enough to make him piss himself.

Just as Quinlan’s grip had tightened on Desai’s throat, Vasiliy entered the room begging Quinlan to stop.

“We need answers!” Vasiliy had yelled.

Quinlan in a fit of rage had forgotten to question the man first.

Quinlan’s hands unlocked from their position and he heard Mr. Desai take in a gasping breath.

Desai fell back into his chair, relieved to be able to breathe again.

“Luidmyla Fet,” Quinlan stated. “She was a... resident at your facility. Where is she now?” Quinlan asked with a demanding voice.

Desai had expected to be asked about the master, he searched his brain for the name Luidmyla Fet... it didn’t ring a bell.

“I don’t know who that i-”

Quinlan’s hand quickly went back to the man’s throat.

Desai stopped breathing again.

“Quinlan!” Vasiliy yelled as he entered the room.

Quinlan let go for a moment. He pulled the paper from Vasiliy’s grasp and dangled the page infant of Desai.

“This!” Quinlan hissed, “Where did she go?”

Desai struggled to recognize the black and white photo. The girl had been practically catatonic when she had arrived. But Desai did remember her, she was the only personal prisoner the Master had ever brought him.

She was the only one to ever escape since Dutch Velders. Myla Fet.

“I didn’t work with the program then. I don’t know.” Desai said.

Quinlan could see he was lying through his teeth.

Quinlan grabbed Desai’s collar.

“Maybe we should get the knife?” Vasiliy asked.

“I’d rather something more blunt.” Quinlan replied. “Perhaps something from the tool case.”

Desai’s eyes widened as they discussed his next measure of torture.

“She - she was there! I didn’t deal with her much she had a special room in the back of the facility. It - it was like a cell, there were armed guards around the clock to watch her.”

“Why are her records empty? The other women have pages of medical records and her’s is empty.” Vasiliy asked.

“She - she ran away. It was months ago! She killed a guard, stole a van... crashed it somewhere on 39th I think.”

“Crashed? Did she get away?” Quinlan asked.

“Sort of... I - I don’t know! The Master sent mongrels after her, she was on foot... I assumed they got to her and took care of the problem.”

“She never came back?”

“No - she - the Master... he just stopped looking for her!”

“He just stopped. As in... gave up?” Vasiliy asked. “Dunno about you Q, you even known the Master to just ‘give up?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Quinlan said. “Perhaps we are going to have to ask the Master himself.”

“Good idea Q. You wanna tell us where he is?” Vasiliy asked.

Desai looked between the two men, Vasiliy picked up his piece of rebar off the table.

“The more you tell us... the less this is gonna hurt.” Vasiliy smiled.


	29. Camaraderie

Quinlan sat on the passenger side of the vehicle, mostly stewing, unable to calm himself from their recent findings. Myla was alive. She had survived the Master... now she was lost... and he had been rash enough to take on the task the Professor had given them.

Now what? The professor was dead, Myla has survived, and Quinlan had failed them both.

The decision to head to the Master’s nest had been instinctive. That lust for revenge had brought Quinlan all back in a whirlwind of pain and anguish. If Myla was still alive, the Master would know about it. If she was dead, well he would know that too.

Quinlan had to find out.

“I’ve been handling weapons carefully for two thousand years,” Quinlan said.

“Yeah, well I’d feel a lot better if you stop playing with that.”

Quinlan stubbornly set down the detonator as he eyed the building in front of them. He had been quiet since they had left Desai. Vasiliy had noticed. They knew where the Master was, but no idea if Myla was even alive. Quinlan was willing to risk his life to ask the Master himself just what exactly had happened.

It was a risk, a great risk. After Desai’s capture, the Master had surely laid some trap - that was why they had brought the bomb. Quinlan was designated first to detonate, Vasiliy was a backup should something go wrong. Neither Vasiliy or Quinlan felt they had a choice. And Dutch had promised that if either of them didn’t make it back, she would look for Myla. Dutch could find her, she would have to.

“You’re really brave you know, for doing this,” Vasiliy said.

Quinlan still said nothing. He had one important thing to say to the rat catcher, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“I’ll keep the radio on,” Quinlan said.

“You know... you weren’t half bad through all this,” Vasiliy added. “I’m uh, glad to call you a friend.”

Damn. Vasiliy was just like his sister. Somehow appealing to his more human side.

“I just hope you find her. If I do make it out I’ll meet you at the warehouse. But if I don’t...”

“Don’t talk like that Q,” Vasiliy said.

“But... if I don’t...” Quinlan repeated. “And you find her... tell her - you can tell her -”

Vasiliy looked at the road, he pulled the van to the side, pulling it into park. They were here.

“You mean how you felt?” Vasiliy asked.

“Yes.” Quinlan paused. “Tell her I loved her.”

“Well hopefully with this plan, you’ll get to tell her yourself,” Vasiliy said with hopeful eyes. His journey with the half-muncher hadn’t been an easy one, but now as he looked at the pain-stricken man who loved his sister, he couldn’t help realize he was his brother. In more ways than one.

Quinlan nodded but wasn’t too hopeful about the next hour. Maybe this would work, maybe he could save Myla’s life by sacrificing his, and that would be worth it.

Their small group of ten men made up of Dutch, Ephraim, Vasiliy, and Gus’s men made for a good team. Quinlan felt confident they would be okay while he made his way to the top floor of the building. He was good with his sword but had no idea what was in store for him on the other side of that door.

Quinlan looked back gave a nod and then turned his back on a group of people he had come to call his friends. They offered their weapons, their blood... everything to him. And because Myla had cracked him just enough, Quinlan had let them in. The woman had taught him to fight for the next piece of life... never give up... So filled with hope that woman. So filled with determination.

He hoped he could do right by her.

* * *

 

Myla was dreaming again of Sariel’s many eyes.

The Lumen was now so clear to her. Every word, every hidden symbol. It had all been about her. Them.

She felt a rush of air against the layer of dirt that covered her skin.

It was Lars. He was pulling her from the confines of her dirt-filled coffin. He handed her a robe allowing her to cover herself as she stood.

Myla didn’t know what hour it was, or what day it was. She had been in New York for months now, she had come home, but never truly felt like she was home. She blamed Sariel for her uneasiness.

The Olympian had clearly been abandoned for months now. But the fond memories still lingered in the back of her mind. The altercation she had here nearly two years ago no longer plagued her thoughts, but the memories of Quinlan did.

She followed Lars down the hall to the same room she used to watch Quinlan and Setrakian translate the Lumen. The Large table and bar made it the easier place to conduct the plan they had been mulling over for the last several months.

From here she had controlled the silver children, using them as her own army as she thwarted the Master in small ways.

Gus Elizade’s gang hadn’t been getting Setrakian’s heart pills out of chance, Myla had made sure they had been supplied with them. Her spies had also told her of her brother’s whereabouts. Myla had grinned when she realized the professor was already three steps ahead of her.

The face of God.

The Ouroboros.

He knew. And he sent Vasiliy to go find one.

Myla had made sure there was an unaccompanied van at the airport with several provisions when Vasiliy and Quinlan had landed. They had difficulty making it into the city, but Myla knew they eventually would.

She knew them better than she knew herself these days.

From the windows, Myla looked down at the streets of a familiar city. She had been surprised at how the Master integrated working people into his plan. Myla had thought his only intention for the human race was death. Sariel explained it differently. He was their youngest brother, a creature who ignored the rules from the very beginning. He preferred to use human weakness to gain power. Any human strength he found he would take for his own claiming them as part of his legion or a new host.

Now he had a city. An army. And a large supply of blood.

Her small army would have to do.

All they needed was that bomb.

“We’ve got a problem,” Asim said.

“They’re moving it.”

“Goddamnit. From the bank?” Lance asked.

“Yeah, we think they're going right for him,” Asim said.

Myla rolled her eyes. From the Olympian, she could see the Empire State building. Taking the Master head on seemed reckless. Something she may have expected from Vasiliy, but not Quinlan.

“What’s our move?” Lance asked.

“We need it,” Lars said.

“Let's go get it. They’re going to level the city with that thing.” Myla interjected.

“They would be reckless?” Asim asked.

“They’re desperate.” Myla corrected. “He’s more powerful than ever.”

"I disagree. This could mean death for all of us. Prematurely." Halima said.

This session of this council was not something Myla or Sariel had gotten used to. Dandera and Hamila's contribution to the cause had shifted some sort of family lineage that Myla or Sariel didn't want to bother with. 

"Cousin, perhaps we should let Asim make the decision," Dandera said.

"And let him listen to her?" Halima asked. "I have our best interests in mind, these two seem hell-bent on killing us, I'm just exploring an option in which we don't die."

"I thought we knew from the beginning how this was supposed to end," Dandera said spitefully. Dandera didn't like the idea of her cousin giving her false hope. This was supposed to end one way... the red worm told them that.

"Naeem has a better plan if you and Asim would only listen to him..."

Asim and Myla looked at one another. Myla's determination and Asim's wisdom told them there was no other way. But Halima and her husband seemed determined to find another way. Their youth would be their downfall.

Myla was already worried Halima would run. No, Sariel was worried she would take their brother away. Myla hated how their fear trickled into her own common sense. But she couldn't deny the fact that they may be right.

"We go after the bomb." Myla commanded. "It's been our plan all along, I can't help it if you get cold feet."

"We don't have... cold feet. These aren't concerns, this is the desire to live." Naeem said.

"That's where you've gone wrong." Myla said. "From the beginning you've known what this meant. You. Halima. Dandera. This hasn't been a surprise." Myla hissed.

"Yes, we know that, but it doesn't mean time hasn't changed anything," Naeem argued, his wife hidden behind his back.

"Naeem, nothing has changed," Asim said. "It has been our prophecy for some time now... if you don't recall... you and Halima volunteered yourself to the cause."

"You're human I'm human. You're out of luck." Myla said. "You knew the choice you made, don't pussy out now because you can see the light at the end of the tunnel."

"But if these other warriors can kill him, why shouldn't we let them try?!" Naeem asked.

"You may not know as well as your wife. But I know. She knows. Even if she doesn't listen to them... her gut tells her their plan won't work."

"How would you know that?!" Naeem said accusing Myla.

"Because I have been at this longer than you. I don't let life get in my way. I want life to live. There are no excuses for what we are about to do. If you disagree with the circumstances, your wife can slit her wrists and I will gladly take on her burden." Myla said coldly with no remorse.

Asim said nothing. He wouldn't allow Myla to take on another, but she was right, Halima couldn't turn back now. 

"We might as well enjoy the fight. We've undermined the master for months now. This... could really hurt him," Myla said.

“I’ve been itching for a fight like this...” Lance said with a smile.

Myla smiled back. Both Lars and Lance had taken on training Myla in close combat. She too was itching for some strigoi to practice on.

“Oh no, you can’t go,” Asim said. “It’s too dangerous, finding a new host would be risky if you were injured.”

_‘You would heal.” they whispered._

“Like hell, I won’t!” Myla argued. “This was my plan, this was -”

“I thought we agreed to let them think you were was dead,” Lars whispered under his breath.

“We can still play it that way,” Myla whispered back.

“How do you propose we do that?” Lars asked. 

Myla turned away from the table while the others tried to calm Naeem.

“Helmet. I take your bike, you run the show.” Myla said. “Give them a key card to the Olympian. They’ll come back here out of curiosity, and we’ll switch the vans when they’re in the underground.” 

Lars didn't reply. He didn't like that it was so simple. And now she had an idea to involve _them._

“That’s not a bad plan actually... take it from right under their noses.” Asim said, “We could be down the road before sunrise.” he sighed, “But I still don’t like the idea of you going.”

“This could be the opportunity we were waiting for.” Myla pleaded.

“A bait and switch,” Lance said. “But why would they come here?”

“This is where we stayed before the bomb,” Myla said. “If they believe I’m alive at all, they’ll come here. Their curiosity alone will make them come here and learned about you all.”

“And when they do arrive... you won't be here?” Asim asked. "We lie to them?"

“Yes. You will lie, I will... stay hidden. And once they're upstairs Lance's men can drive the van outside the city. They’ll never know I was here, or that the bomb was gone until we’re a hundred miles out of the city.”

“I have to say, I like the plan.” Lance said, “Gives us a good reason to test some of the road defenses.”

Myla smiled back at Asim, with pleading eyes and a pouted lip she begged him to let her go.

“You don’t understand, a fight... life or death... it could cause you to let _them_ help... that wouldn’t be good for any of us,” Asim said.

Sariel was oddly quiet, probably still fearful of seeing their brother or his army. Fighting wasn’t really something they permitted her to do. But perhaps they were getting cold feet the closer they got to what they wanted. Dying wasn’t an easy choice for Myla - six ancient beings choosing the same fate was likely just as difficult. If the first three hadn’t been buried for months, they might not have realized their existence could be dimmed to the point where they no longer lived, only waited.

Waiting... now that would have driven them to madness. This was the reason why they had yet to let anyone take on Acenath’s burden. Whatever sixth being lay dormant in that coffin had to be completely mad.

Myla even suspected Sariel feared the sixth more than they feared the seventh.

“Let's get our asses down there,” Myla said. “I’m going, I have a right to this. I’ve been training to protect this world, this is a part of that.”

Asim nodded, granting her permission to go. He was still not aware that Sariel whispered in Myla’s ear, or he would have forbidden Myla leaving his sight. He may have even chosen to entomb her as well if he knew the truth.

Myla nodded and left the room, Lars was closely following behind her.

“You know this isn’t a good idea, Asim is right. If you get torn apart we could be up one bomb, and nowhere near saving them.”

“You want this to end as badly as I do,” Myla said. “Give me the keys to your bike.”

Myla placed the keys in her pocket as she rounded the corner to her chambers. Dandera was waiting for her. She was a timid thing, reminiscent of Myla's years as a dancer. She seemed scared. Worried about the bomb's recent travels to New York, concerned that her commitment was now more real than ever.

Myla only looked at her as she waited for Dandera to speak.

"Halima and I... it's been getting harder to sleep."

"I don't have time for this now," Myla said. "Things are moving forward."

"I thought I might try the soil." Dandera commented leisurely.

Myla questioned her glance at the previously mentioned coffin. She didn't much care for babysitting those two. She would have rathered taken on the burden herself.

"Try it. Whatever. We could be leaving as soon as tomorrow." Myla told her.

"You think it will help?" she asked softly.

"We're broken humans, Dandera. I don't know what will help you. As long as you don't burn out."

"You mean to accept him?" she asked.

Myla hesitated. Dandera could know everything or she could know nothing. 

"Well make it. Somehow, some way. We're not on our own here, the end... that can be lonely. But we have each other."

"I think Halima has different plans," Dandera admitted.

"She doesn't have a choice."

"Naeem tells her differently," Dandera said. "He speaks of a world where the bombs don't go off and we all live."

"Naeem is lying," Myla said. "There is no other way. Just ask Sariel yourself."

Dandera inhaled sharply, she hadn't heard Sariel's name out loud yet, only deep within her own brain.

"If they are hopeful of some semblance of life, tell her to ask Sariel. There is no other way. There is no crown. No prize for carrying this burned. Only a world without the Master."

Dandera was still silent. Something unspoken was left hanging in the air. 

"I must leave," Myla said. "Sleep. It will do you some good. Halima too."

Dandera picked at her fingernails as she bit her bottom lip. She was clearly bothered, but Myla didn't have any more time. Myla was itching to get out and fight, at least that was what she told herself. The last several months of training between Lance and Lars had left her itching to stake a few munchers. She knew going out was risky, she knew trusting Sariel was risky, but she wanted to do it anyway. But Sariel was all too aware of the fact that Myla was excited to catch a glimpse of her family.

* * *

 

The Silver Army barreled down the streets of Manhattan. The small van could be seen several blocks away. Myla could sense the army Strigoi, and she alerted the other vehicles of the threat. This was big... the Master was trying to catch all the vampire hunters in one net. He had wind that someone was pushing back within the city, but he didn't know Acenath was here, or that Sariel had spoken of the first place.

The Master just knew there was a resistance. 

Luckily there was more than one, and the true threat could hide behind them. 

But there was no more room for hiding. Only fighting. 

They had spent the last several months looking for a nuclear bomb. In the meantime, they had acquired a large amount of military armor and weaponry. They had spent their time understanding how to wield it to their advantage. Now their cars were equipped with a large arsenal of high caliber weapons. Strigoi stood no chance, and the Silber Children were eager to see their weapons in action.

As they sped down the street, Myla was quick to recognize the tall frame of her brother. The beard suited him, she didn't know why he'd never grown one before. 

Myla rode past her brother, it took a little extra power to pull the gas on her bike, as she did she caught a fragment of speech.

“Quinlan, we’ve got a bit of a situation down here...” Vasiliy said over the radio.

She saw a truck stop behind her. Lance was probably giving one of his best smiles as he handed over the keycard to a woman. Myla stopped several yards away and looked back at the group who now stood armed and perplexed as they were surrounded by a large caravan of black trucks. 

Myla recognized Gus Elizalde, Dutch, Ephraim... no Setrakian, no Quinlan.

Myla turned back around to face the large group of Strigoi in front of her. Several of her vehicles lined up beside her. _This was going to be fun._

She pulled out her spear. It was retractable, it came to full size as she pulled its release lever.

Lance gave the signal to fire. The mounted guns on their trucks flooded the streets with bullets. Myla noted that some fire was coming from behind them. Gus’s group was providing cover fire. Now she was able to push forward. She cut left, then right, waves of white blood seemed to spray everywhere, only now she no longer feared them. Her immunity had been a mystery to her, but now she knew her destiny was to rid the world of these creatures. They couldn't hurt her. They were powerless. 

She cut a mongrel down by decapitating it. She looked down at the mutated creature, half wishing it had at least been a challenge. She looked back at the trucks still pushing forward. This was easy for them. The Master's army was failing.

_The last several months had seemed to fall into place seamlessly._

The weapons they had acquired... the training. The Silver Children had been looking for a fight, and there was more strigoi to kill here than there ever had been back East.

Myla sighed if only she had shared the rest of her training with Quinlan. He would have been so proud of her. 

As the Strigoi cascaded over buildings and into the streets Myla couldn’t help but smile. The _inhuman_ parts of her were also proud to see such abominations wiped clean from the earth. The ancients had been selective to grant immortality to their Sun Hunters, and to see so many beings sharing the white worm sickened them. Their little brother had never respected their laws, and soon, he would pay the price. _This was only just the beginning._

_‘'Man is a parasite... heavenly bodies make us fight.’’ They all said in unison._

Once the herd was thinned, their motors began to roar. Myla looked back in time to see Vasiliy and Dutch jump into their van and drive away now that the coast was clear. They could make it to the Olympian without being followed now that the Silver Children were here.

_'At least he's safe.' Myla's human side told her._

She was however still looking for Quinlan, maybe this wasn't his fight.

Myla drove forward, weaving in and out of strigoi packs, cutting them down as she rode past. Her trucks were able to push further in, cutting down more minions in their path.

She felt a misguided bullet hit her shoulder. It went through and through - _it didn’t even hurt._

As a bold move, Myla took off her helmet, revealing herself to a nearby strigoi. The recognition was instant, and she saw the glowing red eyes of the master meet her gaze. Within Myla’s blue eyes, the Master recognized his siblings. The very same siblings he had thought he’d executed. The same siblings that had stolen away his prisoner.

Myla left no time for the Master to comment, only to get his attention. As she baited him and lead the Strigoi away from the rest of the group she found herself leisurely driving through the streets of New York. She was easily going eighty-five miles an hour, the only strigoi that had a chance of catching her were the mongrels. But even she knew how to evade them. The Master had been too proud and made this too easy.

Myla allowed the Master to hunt her just long enough...

...and then, she disappeared into the night. 


	30. Nostalgia

“Whoa boy, aren't we glad you boys showed up,” Vasiliy said as he exited the van. He looked around at the familiar surroundings and tried not to get his hopes up that Myla would be here. That would be too simple. “Where’d you boys find this place?”

“We’ve been here for a few months,” Lance replied. “The place was empty.”

Vasiliy felt his hope diminish, if the place was empty when they'd gotten here, Myla must’ve moved on. “You boys aren’t from around here are ya?” Vasiliy asked.

“No. The other side of the pond.” Asim said with a smile. “I am Asim, this is Lance, his nephew Rahm.” Vasiliy looked at the kid, having so recently been betrayed by Zach, Vasiliy didn’t want to trust them. “We saw that army befall you... and we couldn’t stand idly by when you’ve fought against the master for so long, can I ask why you went to see the Master?”

“So you’ve been... watching us?” Dutch asked. “That’s not creepy at all.”

Vasiliy eyed the old man, his tan wrinkled skin didn’t tell him much. The accent was something he couldn’t place and they had been watching them... that was strange. These were things the Professor was good at.

“We are allies.” Asim said, “We’ve been following the same path as you for a while now.”

“I think we woulda crossed paths by now eh?” Dutch asked, also untrusting of the men before her.

“No... wait.” Gus said from behind. “I do know you. You’re the guy that always brought in those pills...”

Lance smiled and looked back at his comrades.

“Yeah, we’ve done business a few times,” Lance said admitting a small part of Myla’s plan. “Rahm here traded with you a few times too.”

“You two know each other?” Vasiliy asked looking back at Gus.

“Thought you were from the city, another gang,” Gus admitted.

“Aren’t we?” Lance ask. “Thanks again for trading those parts, helped build the guns on those trucks.”

“You mean the guns that saved our asses?” Vasiliy asked.

“Very same,” Lance said. “You can... come up, have a drink if you’d like. We’ve got a little food. Not much but-”

“Oh hell yes.” Dutch said before anyone else, “I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”

“Come on, we’re happy to share.”

The elevator ride was a bit awkward, many of them remember the last time they were here was amidst a tragedy. None of them wished to share that information, but perhaps an alliance could be brokered.

Vasiliy felt like they could use the help.

But for now, a meal would do.

When they reached the top floor they took in the changes. It was full of people, tables were littered with schematics of weapons, buildings - very similar to how it once looked littered with copies of the Lumen.

Now there were different faces, in a familiar place. It felt strange for all of them, and it didn’t make it easy to trust them.

* * *

 

Myla pulled into the underground an hour after Vasiliy had arrived. She saw the white van parked in the corner of the structure, it was parked facing outwards, ready for a quick escape. She parked Lar’s bike next to it and stared.

This was the closest she had been to her brother in almost a year. She touched the van getting lost in the thought of seeing him again. As that thought crossed her mind, she felt something shift inside of her. Almost as if it came as a warning. Human sentiment had gotten Sariel entombed before... they didn’t want to risk that happening again.

The decision she had made couldn’t be erased. They were ground against her bones as the red worms slithered throughout her body. She belonged to them, she was stronger, yet heavier, weighed down by this suicide task.

A shadow fell over her mind when she realized he would never feel that love from family... that love form a lover. But it didn’t mean her human side still didn’t ache for it. She only wished there was someone who understood.

“Where have you been?” Lars asked appearing from behind the backside of the van.

“Led them away,” Myla said. “Was getting congested there for a while.”

“You didn’t show _yourself_...?”

“The master didn’t see anything I didn’t want him to,” she said defensively.

“I was referring to him, when they came back without Invictus, I only assumed you had sought him out.”

Myla lowered her head. She didn’t want to admit that she had looked for Quinlan... she just hadn’t gone out of her way.

“You stayed on the bike? Like we agreed?”

“Yes,” Myla said through her teeth.

“Then what the hell is that?” Lars asked.

Myla looked at her shoulder, the bullet wound had gone through and through. She hadn’t even noticed it. She playfully poked a hole through her leather jacket, she pulled at the leather, not quite sure when it had happened,

“Guess I missed that...”

“You need to be more careful.” Lars scolded. “We both know we're playing a dangerous game here, the last thing we need is for the Master to get a hold of you again.”

“Don’t need to tell me that, I was there remember, after both blasts. I know he’s a threat.”

Lars pulled Myla into the elevator. They went to the fourth floor. A place where Myla had been staying these last couple of months. Dandera and Halima had been on the floor above her. Myla had avoided the top floor just to keep away from her old memories. But down here she had settled for only one simple memory of Quinlan and her orchid. She didn’t know where the orchid had gone, she couldn’t find it when she got here. But the memory was here, she supposed that was all that mattered.

Lars indicated she take off her jacket. And as she did she noted all the scars she had received since she left this place. The scars the Master had left took the longest to heal, they were ugly long and just now beginning to fade.

Lars had a bandage in his hand she felt him hesitate before he touched the bullet wound. So she tried to fill the silence.

“So, they’re upstairs?” she asked.

“Yes,” Lars said.

“Any chance I could sneak a-”

‘Absolutely not.” Lars said. “You and everyone else upstairs knows that would be a bad idea.”

“Even if I -”

“Even if you kept on that helmet. It would be a bad idea.”

Myla frowned and crossed her arms. Lars removed the bandage and showed Myla the amount of blood.

She felt her heart sink. Sariel was silent as she had been grasping at memories of the past, but now as she looked at the bandage and saw that it was, in fact, a pale shade of pink, she was reminded that the people upstairs didn’t need to see her die more than once.

A crazy little part of herself wished she could take it all back. If only for a moment.

If she could breathe, she’d be free. She’d get high, have a drink, dance a little.

This blind faith was getting a little old.

“Will I die?” she asked. “Asim didn’t know what would happen after carrying them this long.” Myla sighed.

“But you did. You knew.” Lars said. “If you listened a little more you’d understand.”

“I didn’t think... it would happen this quickly.”

“Your organs are embedded with silver. Your blood is not. Your blood is theirs and now there isn’t much left.” He paused. _“We won't have much time left,” Lars whispered._

“I’ll... die soon,” she stated flatly. “Because I have no way to take in new blood.”

“You won’t die. But the organs they can’t touch... well those will still need new blood. All the fighting and training, it has sped up the process.”

“It’s not -” Myla sighed.

“You and those girls knew once you accepted the worm there is no turning back. Your body cannot survive without them or the white. And once Sariel is gone, there will be neither.”

“To be fair wasn’t exactly my choice,” she said bitterly.

“Wasn’t it though?” Lars asked. “If you knew then you what you know now - you would have jumped at the chance.” he signed, and then whispered. “Because you love him.”

Myla tensed. She knew Sariel was still connected to Lars, and she knew many of her thoughts were no longer private - but she hoped they would at least leave him alone.

“Why... where you there that night?” she asked. “It was like you four were just waiting for me.”

“We were,” Lars said bluntly. “Call it divine intervention, call it prophesy, when I saw you with him that day, we all knew that you were the best hope.”

_“And we knew we would see you again,” Sariel whispered._

A shiver ran up Myla’s spine when she heard their voices in unison. It must be late. They always got louder at night. She had accepted whatever this fate was, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t torn, it didn’t mean she didn’t miss them.

“Seeing them could remind me-”

“No. You cannot see them. Love tends to make humans do stupid things.” he said sternly.

Myla said nothing while Lars finished dressing her wound. She complied silently and when he left she sat in silence wondering what her brother was saying. She wondered if Quinlan was upstairs, or if he was on his own like he used to prefer.

Her mind wandered to old memories of the Olympian. Sariel stayed quiet as she fondly remembered waking up next to Quinlan, lying in the crook of his shoulder, or the way he would smell her hair.

Her fondest memories were on the rooftop with him, learning how to use her sword, gazing up at the stars. Even sharing pages of the Lumen had become a favorite past time of hers. She had always enjoyed Quinlan’s stories of the old world. Now with Sariel, she felt the exhaustion of their age, but no memories of her own.

“What about the professor?” Myla asked. “I didn’t see him.”

“He didn’t come with them. And they haven’t mentioned him.”

Myla at least hoped her old friend had made it through these last few months. She had hoped the Professor of all people could come with them. She knew he needed to see this finished, and he would be able to at least understand her.

“Stay here, I’ll get you a blood bag.”

“Now?” Myla asked.

“If this goes as planned, we’ll be on the road at sunrise. Then we’ll be in the truck for several hours, best to get ahead of this.”

Myla nodded and waited for the next part of her plan to begin. All these months they had been preparing, and now that it was here, made it feel like she was in for the longest night of her life.

* * *

 

Vasiliy had told him they were _“going back to the old place.”_

When Quinlan set foot on the Olympian roof, he got a shiver down his spine from the ghosts of his past. The memories were always hardest to ignore when you resided in the place they were born. Now standing here, they all came flooding back.

Someone had been here for some time now. All the floors windows had been blacked out, the smell of silver and well-oiled machines hit his nose and seemed to creep through every floor. As he wanted across the roof the sound of gravel reminded him of Myla.

Her sword was at his hip sitting under his coat. Never used, but for safe keeping.

_For a reminder._

He let himself in from the roof. Only to be stopped by several men who had been guarding the rooftop entrance.

They didn’t seem entirely surprised by his nature. They looked him up and down, and one man cocked his head to the door. Quinlan entered to the top floor without any issues and was surprised to see Vasiliy sitting at a table with more of these men.

The floor had been rearranged. A large table took up most of the main hall, he was quick to wonder if they had touched the room he and Myla had shared. Somehow that possibility made him angry.

He stood tentatively as the Doctor, Ms. Velders, Gus, and Fet sat across from several unfamiliar faces. By the looks of it, Quinlan could tell they were of middle eastern decent. His instincts told him not to trust them. They seemed strangely casual as they hosted some kind of meal for his friends.

The couple in the back seemed particularly disturbed by Quinlan's presence. 

“Mr. Quinlan I presume, please sit with us, we could get you some blood if you’d like,” Asim said welcoming him to their table. Quinlan still didn’t take a seat.

“Or if you prefer to stand, that’s fine too. We’re almost done here.” Asim said.

“These guys got us outta that trap back there,” Vasiliy said. “Might’ve died and lost our cargo. I don’t suppose you caught any details about who we were looking for?” Vasiliy asked. He had hoped their risky maneuver had perhaps shed some light on his sister’s whereabouts.

“No. None,” Quinlan replied.

“You’re looking for someone?” Asim asked.

“My uh, sister. Don’t suppose you’ve found a firey Ukranian with a likeness to myself have you?”

“Vasiliy, don’t insult the girl.” Dutch said, “You may share the same eyes but she’s twice as pretty as you.”

“I can’t say that I have,” Asim said with a smile. “We’ve been a close group for the last fifteen years now, no new members have... managed to join us.”

“And why is that?” Quinlan asked awkwardly.

“These guys are from across the pond, they have been fighting strigoi in Egypt, now and they’ve come to New York to try and help our cause.”

“You’ve been in Egypt, all this time?” Quinlan asked. “How is it we’ve never crossed paths?”

“We are a secret people, Mr. Quinlan. Few are able to find us, and we take pride in keeping ourselves secret from the world.”

“But the ancients would have known about you... you could have been a threat to them...”

“...they would have asked you to hunt us,” Asim said, “Their fear hid us from you, and the Master.”

“But they knew you were there, lurking - you -” he realized, “it was your kind who entombed him. And now you’ve brought him here.”

Quinlan became mad. Memories of Myla... the silver coffin, their chase and her death all came flooding back to him. Somehow he was able to blame them. Setrakian and Myla came up with the idea to entomb the Master, now he was dead and she was lost. All because of something the Lumen said.

“Wait... what? How do you know that Q?” Vasiliy asked.

“I can sense him... the ancients, the others from your world - they’re here. In this very building.”

Asim stayed silent. He became reserved and nodded at a nearby soldier to indicate this conversation and their time here was done.

“Perhaps we should be done here,” Asim said.

“And what? Let you go on with whatever it is your planning? If there are more ancients they can help us fight, the others died before they got the chance - “ Dutch began rambling.

“I’m afraid there is no reason to discuss them any further.”

“No, no there’s time for questions, what the hell is Quinlan talking about? You protect the ancients?”

“Don’t mind the old man.” Naeem chimed in. “He’s a little embarrassed by his own plan, doesn’t want to mess anything up. Always does everything by the book.”

“Naeem. Hush. This isn’t your place.”

“The hell it isn’t, that’s my wife that has that worm in her body, and her damn sister. It was my family you and that bitch sacrificed!”

Vasiliy stood up joining Quinlan’s side, Dutch and Ephraim followed.

“What’s he talking’ about?” Vasiliy asked furrowing his brow, “It seems maybe you don’t want to help us at all!”

“You’re serious?” Gus asked looking at Naeem, “What is this place, really?”

“Oh, I’m serious, serious about the little plan he has for your bomb downstairs. He’s been distracting you so he could take it out from under your nose.”

“Naeem! THAT’S ENOUGH!” Asim shouted pounding his fists on the table.

“Oh no, you fuckin don’t. Q and I went to hell and back to get that bomb, I’ll die before I let someone like you have it.”

“It’s not to be discussed,” Asim said. “It’s bigger than you - all of you -”

“Sorry old man, but we’ve been at this game longer than you. The Master took my sister over nine months ago... he’s been here winning this war and you’ve been hiding in Egypt like some group of cowards!”

Naeem looked at Vasiliy and nodded.

Naeem pointed his weapon at the men he had once called brothers, Halima took his side with another weapon, Quinlan quickly drew his uzi’s when he saw the weapons that were now pointed back at them.

This had escalated quickly.

“Naeem, Mr. Fet, Mr. Quinlan... please I beg you, do not do this.”

“Then find a way to fix her... to give her back to me.”

“You both knew-”

“That was before Istanbul, before her!” Halima cried, “That was before I knew I was pregnant, and _I begged you to help me.”_

“And I told you there was nothing I could do!” Asim said,

Halima aimed her gun at Asim, “I think you’re lying.”

There was a stagnant breath in the air while both groups absorbed their predicament. Several silver soldiers stood at Asim’s side, some switched to Naeem’s cause. It was wordless, it was unavoidable.

Then Halima pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter nearly done, will be out soon, I promise. Thank you for reading, :) I like you guys.


	31. Mercy

When Myla woke up, she felt a searing pain in her head. It was worse than any hangover she’d ever had, it was an alarm. A warning... something was wrong.

As she emerged from underneath the dirt she found Lars already waiting for her. He handed her her jacket and shoes.

She looked at him, full well-knowing something had gone wrong.

“There’s a...”

“...problem.” she finished. 

Lars nodded and helped her up.  Myla had bitterly spent the night alone wondering about her brother upstairs. She hadn’t thought something of this magnitude was possible. It could only mean one thing... someone had told them. 

Once she was properly dressed, she and Lars entered the elevator, heading to the top floor. Each elevator tone that indicated they were going higher and higher scared her. What if Vasiliy was hurt... what if Quinlan was dead?

When the elevator doors opened - they were met with bodies, broken glass, and the distinct smell of blood. 

Lance was standing against the wall. His gaze was directed to the floor at a young man who wasn’t more than eighteen. It had been Lance’s nephew, Rahm. The kid had chosen to be a silver child because he admired his uncle, and now he was dead on the floor.  
  
“What the hell happened?” Myla asked.

“Went like you planned, until Naeem got a little out of hand.” Lance said. “Didn’t think the kid would have the guts to pull a gun on us..” he paused. “Naeem told them about the bomb, that we wanted to take it, half my men betrayed the cause and sided with him. The rest of us followed them downstairs, but they got away.”

“What about Dandera?”

“She still doesn’t know,” Lars added. “She’s been sleeping.”

“Why’d they tell them were trying to steal it?” Myla asked.

“Naeem told them everything. Everything except for you. Asim never thought it was wise to tell her or Naeem your connection to the others. And apparently, the girl was pregnant before Istanbul.”

Oh, that made sense. All the suspicion from Dandera, the distrust from Myla. It had been obvious through their connection, if only Myla had seen it sooner.

“Where are they now? _Where is it?_ ” Myla seethed. Her hands were shaking, her blood... boiling... all because of Sariel. The voices in her head were mad, they felt betrayed they felt as though nothing would ever get them home. 

“If we hurry, we still may catch some of them.” Lance said, “Just before you showed up, Ty radioed and said they had some of them cornered.”

Myla nodded and the three of them headed for the elevator.

“How many deserters? How many are still down there?” Myla asked.

“Half,” Lance said. “I told my men to stand down... I didn’t want them fighting that... _thing.”_

Myla grit her teeth again. He could only be referring to Quinlan. Lance had always had some reservations about working with Lars. The teeth and pale skin had always put Lance off, and no doubt Quinlan killing is men had confirmed Lance’s reservations about working with their kind.

“Find Dandera.” Myla spat. “Why can’t have her running away either. Where is Asim?” 

Lance’s shoulders fell again, the disheartened look on his face made Myla angrier. 

“He made it to the next room,” Lance said gesturing back towards the bar.

Myla had to see for herself, as Lars called the elevator, she headed around the dividing wall. The bar that once tested her sobriety now stood empty. Lance’s men had been drinking the liquor since they had arrived, it had been dry as a bone for a while. But now glass was broken everywhere, and amongst the colored shards was Asim’s body. Riddled with bullets. 

Too many voices started to speak in her head. Some of them wanted to run, some wanted to fight, it was all overwhelming. 

Without a thought, Myla skipped the elevator and rushed down down the stairs. Sariel moved her body at a high speed. Just like Quinlan, she was a blur as she moved down the stairs. 

She threw open the door to the parking lot. The van was gone.

She turned to her head to find a sedan speeding towards her. She was quick enough to recognize Dutch in the car along with several others, at least the silver children slowed them down enough that Myla could still catch them. 

Without thinking about the earful she’d get from Lars, Myla planted her feet firmly and waited for the car to hit her. Her skin was still skin but her muscles were exceptionally strong. When she pushed back on the car she felt it crumple. She felt a cheap belt snap from under the hood. It spun around and around until she heard the engine stall and quit. Then she dropped the car, in the passenger seat she saw Halima. 

“Shit,” Halima said looking at the figure standing before them. “We need to go!”

“Cars done, love.” Dutch said 

“Jesus Christ is that?” Ephraim asked.

“It can't be!” Dutch responded. As Myla rounded the car, Dutch grabbed the radio, and told Vasiliy to turn around immediately.

 

        _“Vas, I think you need to come back.”_

_He didn’t respond._

_“Myla - “ the radio fuzzed, “Jesus Fet I think we - “ more interference._

_“What?” he asked, “What’d you say?”_

 

Dutch dropped the radio when she reached for Halima in the drivers seat. Myla had torn open the passenger door. Myla pulled Halima out of the car dragging her across the concrete. Myla soon felt a hand on her shoulder, she twisted the arm and flipped the aggressor away. She noted briefly it was Gus, never in her life would she have believed she would have been able to toss a boxer aside like he was nothing. 

Halima was yelling for help, Myla glanced behind her, Lance and Lars had Dutch and the Doctor subdued and on their knees. Myla gave herself a safe distance from the others before pushing Halima to the ground. Myla squared up on Halima, looking down at her from above, Halima was convinced Myla would kill her. Myla was going to take her spear and run her through. 

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Myla said surprisingly calm.

Halima didn’t know how to react, but her fight or flight response told her to fight. She wasn't much for strength, so she chose to argue. 

“Of course we did you-you're always so hell-bent on getting us all fucking killed, and maybe some of us didn’t sign up for that!”

Myla stood emotionless as Halima pleaded for some kind of mercy. 

“You should have just told me you were pregnant. Or Asim, even his small mind still would have found a way around this.”

Halima stopped, she sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“How - how’d you know that?” She asked, “we never told anyone until earlier -“

“Tonight, yes. If you had said something we would have found a way.”

“But now what? It’s nothing, it’s over, I can’t take this back!” Halima shouted.

“If you’d like to trust me, I have an idea.” Myla said.

 

_“No!” Sariel whispered, “she is not worthy...”_

_“Hush, it’s not like I’m giving her eternal life, just giving her back... her life.”_

_“It is sacred. The blood is not yours to share,” they said in unison._

_“Well, do you want your brother with you or not?”_

_“Kill her, just take it,” they whispered._

_“No,” Myla said sternly. And there was silence._

 

 

“Why should I trust you?” Halima asked.

“Either you give it a chance, or I just take the worm. Then you can die slowly.”

“Another choice I don’t have,” Halima said.

“Join the club,” Myla said. “Stay here.”

Myla turned around - More of Lance’s men had shown up to help, they now had The doctor, Dutch and, Gus subdued by the wall. Myla found Ephraim’s backpack near the ruined car and took out a syringe. 

As Myla walked back to the Halima, Ephraim called out, “Myla?”

Myla hesitated, only for a moment. She didn’t turn around, and she didn’t speak. She ignored them. This problem had to be solved now. Time for explanations would have to come later. 

Dutch looked down at her feet. She could see the radio she had dropped. It was clicking on and off a station, but the volume was low enough that no one could hear it. She hadn’t been able to respond to Vasiliy, she didn’t know if the single had reached through all this concrete. 

She only prayed that he would turn the car around. 

* * *

 

Vasiliy slammed on the breaks as soon as he heard her name. 

“What the hell did she just say?!” Vasiliy asked looking over at Quinlan. 

Vasiliy grabbed the radio and responded, “What? What did you say?”

With the engine running Quinlan and Vasiliy eyed each other, it wasn’t safe to stop like this. 

“Shit... if she’s there, Halima might not get out!” Naeem said from the back of the truck. 

“If who is there?” Quinlan asked turning around now facing Naeem. Roman was in the back checking to see if anything had been done to the bomb while they were upstairs. His computer had been thrown off his lap when Vasiliy hit the breaks.

“She said, _Myla_.” Vasiliy stated.

“Yeah, she’s the one that wanted to take your bomb.” Naeem said innocently. “She’s the one I’m protecting you from.”

Vasiliy shared a look with Quinlan that only read disscontempt. Roman managed to give Naeem a look indicting he was a dead man.

Quinlan exited the vehicle and rounded the back. He opened the doors, climbed inside, and thrust the barrel of his Uzi into Naeem’s neck. 

“I will ask you this only once, the woman who wanted to distract us, and steal this bomb beside me, _was_ _Myla_?”

“Yeah - Yeah!” Naeem said nervously.

“Does this Myla have a last name?”

“I... I dunno - she just showed up in Cairo and she only ever went by her first name - Lars brought her but they always stuck to first names-” 

Quinlan’s gun pressed further into Naeem’s neck. 

“We have been looking for Myla for weeks... and you’ve led us away from her?” Quinlan asked.

Naeem’s eyes widened.

“Look, it can’t be the same person. It was Egypt, this is New York, I’m sure a lot of people share that name!”

“No.” Quinlan said, his eyes shutting. He was trying to concentrate and keep himself from draining the idiot dry. “Only one Myla ever met Lars. That was our Myla. And now I think I’m finally understanding the situation. Mr. Fet, turn this vehicle around. Immediately."

As get put the car back into drive and sped off, none of it’s passengers managed to recognize the creature that had crawled underneath it. While in motion, the strigoi was clinging to the car’s chassis, the Master was eager to learn where the hell this bomb was going. 

* * *

 

Dutch was already slipping the grip of the large man that was holding her back if she could just get to that walkie... 

Then she heard it, the spinning of tires, Vasiliy had come back for them when they had heard Dutch over the radio. 

_Thank god._

The van pulled back into the underground lot, tires screeching as it came to halt. The doors slid open to reveal their friends with weapons drawn. Lance and Lars pushed the Doctor and Dutch in front of them. 

“Still fighting, old man?” Naeem asked, looking at Lance. 

“Give it up, Naeem.”

“Give me back my wife.” He spat. “Where is she?”

“She’s upstairs. And that’s not up to me.”

“You... mean she has her? You let her get taken?” Naeem looked at Dutch.

“Not like we had much of a choice when the girl we’ve been looking for is the one you got beef with,” Gus said still feeling the pain in his shoulder from earlier. 

Naeem’s looked at Gus. Ready to fight him, Gus was still bigger though, clearly a fighter, While Naeem’s had always slacked on his training, never really becoming very strong, only an excellent marksman. 

“This some kind of trick?” Naeem asked.

Then he heard the elevator, behind several men guarding the doors Naeem was able to make out Halima. She was pale, and weak. Clearly, she was hurt. Naeem rushed forward, Vasiliy reached out to try and stop him, instead he watched as Lance pushed a gun into Dutch’s hair, she put her hands up in defense, hoping the man wouldn’t shoot her.

Quinlan followed Naeem, both of them moving closer to the elevator, none of them men tried to stop them, they weren’t a threat... yet. And to many of them Naeem had been their friend. 

Though to some, he had just instigated a war on their family. 

Naeem saw red when he saw Myla. Both Myla and Halima shared a bandage on their forearm - and in that moment Naeem knew Myla had taken the worm. 

Myla had signed his wife’s death certificate. 

“What have you done!?” Naeem cried out. 

Myla looked up at Naeem, her eyes immediately went to Quinlan as she felt Halima pull away from her. Halima upon hearing her husband shouting, began to run forward to him. Myla however was weakened from just releasing Halima. While hunched and unable to defend herself Naeem fired his gun as soon as his wife was clear of range.

Quinlan quickly pulled the gun from Naeem’s grasp and disassembled it. Then he grabbed the boy by the throat lifting him off the floor. Myla was stunned, she fell backward, her hand clutched her stomach. She heard Halima cry out, “No! She was helping us!” Halima said as she grabbed onto Quinlan’s arm begging that Quinlan release Naeem. 

Myla staggered for a moment as she regained her footing. That bullet had fucking hurt, but like bullet from earlier this evening it stop her from doing her job. She situated herself, pulling down her shirt and covering the wound with one hand as she made her debut. 

Myla wasn’t as Quinlan remembered her. She was... stronger now, but paler - somehow she was different. What intrigued him the most was that he smelled no blood. The memory of Myla’s scent had been burned into his mind since the day of the blast. He expected the smell to send him reeling back there, but... there was none. 

“Let him go.” Myla demanded. 

And Quinlan dropped him. 

Naeem began to gasp for air as his wife took his side. 

“She got... what she wanted!” Naeem said pulling at the new bandage on Halima’s arm. 

“No! She gave us a chance... a small one... but still a chance!” Halima whispered. 

Lars had heard the gunshot, and now seeing Halima he knew what Myla had done. Damn the girl for being reckless, damn her for still feeling human. Myla should never have saved her life.

_Halima didn’t deserve it. Sariel knew that. Lars knew that._

Quinlan was beside Myla in no time. He recognized her soft blue eyes as his hands went to her stomach to stop the bleeding. He couldn’t come this far just to lose her. 

Myla instinctively placed her hand over Quinlan’s. His rough knuckles felt familiar, his touch felt like home, even though it was trying to keep her from losing blood. When Quinlan took away his hand, he was shocked and scared to see the white and the way it riddled her body. 

 

_What the hell had she done?_

Quinlan’s hand hesitated at her cheek wondering if he touched her she might disappear. But for the first time in that moment their eyes met and she was reminded of why she was doing all of this in the first place.

So she pushed him away. 

 

She took in a deep breath and attempted to remedy this shit show. 

“Let them go.” Myla demanded, Lance and Lars released their grip on Dutch and the Doctor, slowly putting away their weapons to indicate that they were following orders. 

Myla pulled a set of keys off a nearby table. 

“Go.” Myla said as she tossed the set of keys at the couple still on the floor. 

The pair of them scrambled to their feet and rushed down the parking corridor. 

 

And after that Myla didn’t quite know what to do. She couldn't quite look her brother in the face yet. She was afraid of Quinlan who had already seen the state of her blood, and the others... well she had allowed them to be subdued like they were the enemy for quite some time now. Myla only expected disgust at this point. She had always longed to see Quinlan again, but she had grown content with the idea of ending her life to save her families. She had never admitted to herself that part of her was afraid of what any of them would think of her.

“Myla... it’s really you.” Vasiliy said.

Myla glanced at her brother quickly, seeing tears in his eyes nearly made her call the whole thing off. She felt her heart strings tug and she pushed herself towards Vasiliy. She stopped before she could reach her brother, noting that Lance was clearly upset, he was obviously opposed to this merger of groups. They had been firing bullets at each other for the last hour, and Myla didn’t expect the Silver Children could turn around and trust someone that had just managed to murder some of their friends.  

Her train of thought was quickly derailed the moment alarms started going off in her head again. With a quick move and flick of her wrist, Myla flung her spear towards the van. 

She heard the target once her spear pierced it’s skin. It hissed and cried, with her faster speed she was able to pull the creature out from under the car and recognize two red glowing eyes. 

They had been found out. 

Perhaps the awkward conversation would have to wait - Myla looked back at the small group of people. Her old friends were clearly awestruck at her recent speed. Her comrades however knew, their faces changed from confusion to determination as their emergency plan was set in motion. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got one scheduled for tomorrow too.


	32. Changeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Series Playlist:
> 
> Run Boy Run - Woodkid  
> Friction - Imagine Dragons  
> Home - Machine Gun Kelly Feat. X ambassadors, Bebe Rexha  
> To Be Human - Sia  
> Human - Rag’n’Bone man  
> Paint it Black - Rolling Stones  
> Broken People - Rag’n’Bone & Logic  
> Bottom of the Deep Blue - Missio  
> Way Down We Go - Kaleo  
> I’m Only Joking - Kongos  
> Take it From Me - Kongos  
> Repeat after me - Kongos  
> World Gone Mad - Bastille  
> The Wolf - Siames
> 
>  
> 
> I lost my original playlist, this is the re-vamped version. Feel free to add to it. :)

Myla pulled her spear from the head of the seeker.

She thought this night was bad? Well, it was about to get a whole lot worse.

Myla came back to the crowd with confidence, many of them expecting now was their moment to receive answers.

Instead, Myla gave the signal to a soldier.

He pulled the fire alarm.

"Shit!"

"What the fuck!?"

It took less than ten seconds for at least thirty other silver soldiers to arrive on the parking floor.

"Are you crazy? You'll lead him right to us?!" Vasiliy said.

"He already knows we're here," Myla said.

She took the keys to a nearby storage truck.

Lars stopped her. And Myla flipped into a rage as she grabbed Lars by the throat.

"Do you - really - think that's a good idea?" he managed to get out.

Myla looked at the truck part of her realizing her urge to grabs those keys had been Sariel's desire all along. They were scared, they wanted to run - and they wanted to take the last of their siblings with them.

"No, of course, it's not," Myla admitted, letting go of Lars.

"Then - perhaps - I should drive Acenath. I will take Dandera, and protect them both." Lars said.

Myla nodded in compliance.

"Sounds like there's no longer a choice to make. Just make sure they follow us." Myla nodded as Lars turned away and ran down the corridor.

"What the hell is going on?" Vasiliy asked, "Who the hell are all these people?"

Myla looked around, the six of them clearly looking for answers.

"This is not the time for questions," Myla stated. Over the alarm, strigoi could be heard making their way to the entrance of the lot. The gate wasn't drawn, they were headed right for them.

"We're going to have to fight our way out," Myla said.

"We... could use my machine!" Dutch said, "If we used speakers like we did last time - "

"Lance!" Myla yelled in his general direction, he came over quickly. "Take Dutch in the boom car, give her access to the speakers."

"But you can't be near the-"

"- I'll stay far enough ahead," Myla said. "Just don't get too close."

Lance nodded, Dutch followed.

"Wait!" Vasiliy said, "We can't trust these people, why should we help-"

"You owe me that much Vas. Killing half my men has left me at a bit of a disadvantage. See us out of the city and then you can do whatever you want." Myla said walking forward to meet the strigoi head on.

"Out of the city? Why would you want to go there!?"

"Here they come," Quinlan said.

Myla drew her weapon stabbed the first strigoi before it could get its stinger out. Vasiliy and Gus brought in some cover fire with Roman headed back to the van. Soon Myla felt herself fall into a familiar pace with Quinlan at her back. She had missed this with him.

Together they cut down strigoi, each one fell never making it far into the underground. Myla was trying to buy time until she heard the last truck engine roar to life. It was now or never.

"Vasiliy, you're going to have to trust me!" Myla called out behind her. "I need you to go, the three of you. Stay in the caravan until they make it out of the city!"

"Myla, No, you're coming!" Vasiliy said.

"Yes, but I can't ride with you. Not with that machine -"

"What're you-"

"Go!" Myla shouted. As she cut down another strigoi she felt Quinlan's hand on her arm.

"Please, come," Quinlan said.

"I'll be right behind you," Myla whispered. And with her final comment, she took out her pistol and shot at a rigged trap. The tunnel of strigoi was met with an explosive loaded with powdered silver. A trap she had seen her brother fashion a few times.

Now the road was clear, and Myla gave the signal to move out.

Myla headed for the back - she grabbed the helmet she had worn earlier and went for Lar's bike. She could give them the run around one more time. The bike reached sixty in no time, she sped past the slow-moving trucks squeezing out the entrance to the underground. There had to be thousands of strigoi all around them. This had been planned for too - a worst-case scenario.

Then Myla watched as fireworks went off in the distance, several fire alarms were going off throughout the city - all as an attempt to confuse and distract the strix from the real target.

Then Myla heard it, as he sped down the street she realized she had underestimated how loud the truck's speakers would be. Dutch's machine still met her ears and she felt her body seize up like she was being electrocuted.

She sped past a building with another alarm blaring, it drowned out the machine just long enough that Myla could pull the speed on the bike. She had to get far enough to be out of range of that machine, or she could easily get herself killed.

She took a turn that wasn't part of their plan. She had to get away from the caravan. But this would take her into the heart of the city. And who knew where the master could be.

Several strigoi pack followed her - perhaps the Master knew more of their plan than she thought.

This was still a fast bike. She could use this to her advantage. She worked her way backward hitting some of the traps that still needed to be triggered manually. She would just have to exit the city a different way.

* * *

"Are you fucking kidding me? That's your sister?" Roman asked from the back of the van.

"Think so, she seems... different," Vasiliy said looking over at Quinlan in the driver's seat. He had nothing to add. Quinlan's brow furrowed as he seemed to be as confused as everyone else.

"Do you know who these silver people are?" Vasiliy asked.

"There was a misinterpreted passage in the Lumen, Myla had looked over it for quite some time. But we never figured out what it meant. It was briefly discussed when we thought the Master was bringing another ancient over from Egypt. Perhaps now we know there is some sort of truth to the passage."

"Egypt. They said they were from Egypt, you really think Myla made it all the way there?"

"I've sensed the ancients were near for some time now, I never thought they would find an easy means to cross oceans. I thought I was only ever sensing him."

"How do you know now? What's changed your mind?"

"Seeing her," he said simply.

"Before you all showed up, girl totaled our car, stopped it like it was nothing," Gus added.

"She's been fighting too... training. She's better than I've ever seen her."

"Maybe chalk some of that up to the superhuman strength," Gus said.

"Where are we going anyway? Why do they want to leave the city?"

"I suppose, like many of our recent questions, Mr. Fet, we won't know until we get there."

"Damn, man after all the work we did to get the bomb in the city, and now we're doing twice as much work to take it back out."

"Perhaps she figured out what the professor was working on before he died. They were close nine months ago, maybe there was some sort of link." Quinlan said.

"To be fair a lot of plans could be better than our plan. Leveling the city isn't exactly a solution."

"Yes, Mr. Fet as we've discussed previously," Quinlan said unenthused.

If they were being honest, they had been lost ever since the professor had passed. The bomb was always part of their plan, but now that Setrakian was gone, and the bomb was here they really didn't know what to do with it.

The Doctor couldn't be happy about leaving Shaun behind. The kid had betrayed them only days ago, but even a father's love still would weigh heavily. Quinlan questioned Vasiliy's thoughts, and Vasiliy did the same to him. Neither of them knew who they were looking at when Myla stood there or fought like a natural killer.

She was somehow the leader of all this.

Somehow she was doing just fine without them, and what bothered them most, was that she didn't seem to even bother to look for them.

* * *

 

When the sun came up it was clear that the caravan was stopping. They were at least 30 miles north of the city the trucks all pulled over to an abandoned rest stop. It was clear they had made it to the first checkpoint. There was a nearby motel, a convenience store, and a gas pump that looked nearly drained.

Vasiliy exited the van and noted that the men from the other trucks moved in unison. They had clearly practiced this at some time. Now all he wanted to know was where was his sister.

Lance and Dutch made their way over to their team.

"Sorry about leaving on such short notice," Lance said.

"I get the sense we're not really welcome here," Vasiliy said.

"Most of these men are not happy you're here. You are responsible for killing some of their friends after all."

"Perhaps if you had been more forward about your intentions, and affiliation with Myla, we would have cooperated," Quinlan said.

"I can't argue with that, except you weren't supposed to know she was even alive. I'm surprised Naeem didn't divulge that little secret earlier." Lance said.

"Is she back yet?" Dutch asked. "She was supposed to be in line with the caravan but I guess she can't be near the machine - "

"Wait - here she comes," Gus said pointing down the road. The bike's engine was roaring, it only took a couple of seconds for everyone to realize it was coming in to fast.

"She's gonna drive right past us," Gus said.

When Myla made contact with the caravan, she ignored the break and simply let the bike fall out from under her. She was exhausted. She had been shot twice within the last twenty-four hours, lead hundreds of strigoi on a wild goose chase, and now that the sun was up - Sariel had abandoned her. She felt her wounds, the pain was immense, the bullet still lodged in her abdomen.

She knew the road rash would be painful, but at that moment, she had no control.

"Shit - Shit!" Vasiliy said as he watched the bike begin to skid, at that speed Myla flew across the asphalt, no one knowing when she'd really stop.

Quinlan intervened and absorbed some of the kinetic energy as he lifted her from the ground letting his shoes take most of the speed. When they came to a stop, her helmet slid off.

"Hey, you," she mumbled.

Quinlan fell to his knees now that he finally recognized the woman he loved in his arms.

"Myla..." he whispered.

She smiled back at him. She looked around, she could see daylight, trucks, they had to have made it.

"What can I do?" Quinlan asked looking down at the wound that was now bleeding again.

"I need... Lars," she whispered.

* * *

"Where the hell are you taking her?" Vasiliy asked. "This damn box looks like a death sentence. So help me! If you leave her in there -"

Lars placed Myla inside and pulled the lid closed.

"She is somewhere she can heal," Lars said.

"You can't expect me to believe the best place is a fucking box in the back of your damn truck!" Vasiliy exclaimed.

"That's exactly what I expect." Lars said flatly. "She's healed from worse, this is... temporary."

Quinlan eyed the sarcophagi in the truck. Lars had laid Myla into one of them and shut the lid. This had set Vasiliy off into a fit. He noted, not one, not two, not three, but four silver sarcophagi. He had never seen such a thing, but as he noted the third... he was able to see that it was older than all the rest. The Egyptian glyphs spoke of warnings and curses... Whatever that case contained... it was dangerous.

And now here they were... just standing next to it. Like it was some kind of relic in a museum.

"You mean I can't even talk to her for another fourteen hours?"

"If you want her to be able to talk through the pain, yes," Lars said.

"Her blood is almost completely white," Quinlan said. "Care to explain that one on her behalf?"

Lars stood silently and looked around the shipping container. There were a few ancient relics that Myla had brought back with them. This place was filled with Silver Children antiques, Egyptian artifacts... Quinlan had to at least understand by now.

"You're sure you don't understand why?" Lars asked, "Or are you too afraid to answer that question for yourself?"

"She..." Quinlan struggled to find the words. "She was immune..."

"That's what they all are, Born. Immune. That's what makes them powerful." Lars said before exiting the container, "I suggest you get some rest and food. We will be traveling at night."

"And just where exactly are we going?" Vasiliy called out.

"To the beginning." Lars said.

* * *

 

Dinner was awkward, to say the least, Vasiliy, The Doc, Roman, Gus, Dutch and Quinlan had tried to keep to themselves for most of the day. These Silver Children seemed to want to cooperate because of their mutual friend, but they weren't exactly happy about it. When night fell, they became angry. Myla was nowhere to be seen, and the glares from the other men were starting to worry some.

"Where's my sister?" Vasiliy asked a nearby soldier. He had received no response.

Their group had lit a fire to roast a small deer Quinlan had hunted and drained.

Vasiliy was accustomed to it, so was Roman. The others had become accustomed to Partnership fruits and canned goods. But the protein was well received as their energy was running on reserved much like Myla had been after she pushed herself through the break of dawn.

The worms had protested going any further once the sun had risen, their energy had gone towards healing Myla's wounds, and once the sun had risen, the red worm had given up as well.

It was nearly midnight when Lars introduced himself into their campsite. Each one of them noted his burned face, only Gus and Quinlan had recognized his status as the last sun hunter alive.

"She's coming." was all he said as he took a seat at a distance from their fire. "She may not be in the best of moods."

"My sister, not in the best of moods. Tell me something new." Vasiliy said.

"What is she?" The doctor asked.

"Clearly... she's changed," Dutch commented.

"Is she one of them? She's infected?" Gus asked.

"I'm not infected, but I'm a carrier. There's a difference." Myla said from the darkness.

The flames illuminated a once familiar face, she was once again... different.

"You've changed," Vasiliy stated.

"Five minds, one brain. Wires get a little crossed." Myla said.

"Five?" Quinlan asked he hadn't expected much a number based on his suspicions.

She looked at him.

"Five as of yesterday. Halima forced my hand on that aspect, three was already a bit much, and this fourth is a bit of a talker." Myla admitted. "I don't look forward to talking to the rest of them."

"What? What exactly is this? And why does he follow your every move?" Dutch asked looking back at Lars.

"She carries my masters. I carry out their commands." Lars said speaking for himself.

"And Egypt?" Vasiliy asked.

Myla looked over at Quinlan and couldn't help but smile as she reminisced about their old conversations. "Cairo was beautiful this time of year, you were right."

"This army?"

"These are the silver children," she said. "They are what I have always been."

"So you're turning into one of them?" The doctor asked.

"No, none of us possess the white worm," Myla said. "Our silver shells serve as the perfect host for the red worm. Once an ancient society that served the ancients..." Myla paused looking at Lars. "Until one of us betrayed them. The entombment of one of the ancients was a transgression the silver children could never out live."

"Sun hunters are loyal," Quinlan said, full well knowing the white worm controlled them and only allowed them to do the ancients bidding.

"The silver children keep their free will," Myla stated as a matter of factly.

"So you aren't turning? Are you saying there's a chance to save you? From this?" Ephraim asked.

"I've been in this state for more than five months. I'm a host, a carrier if you prefer doctor. Not afflicted."

"But immune," Ephraim whispered. Ephraim studied Myla's skin, the hue wasn't her usual alabaster skin. It was more a grayish blue tint from the colloidal silver. And in part, the lack of human blood in her system. She would need a blood bag soon, but she had insisted to Lars that she speak with her family first.

"Exactly."

"And... with these ancients and your free will... you need our bomb?" Vasiliy asked.

"Using it against the master does nothing. That's how I ended up with three ancients in the first place."

"When?" Dutch asked. "Before or after you were at the B+living facility?"

"So that's how you found out I was alive," Myla said smiling.

"We managed to track down Desai, and found your file. You were there at the beginning of all of this?" Dutch asked.

"I was with the Master for some time." Myla admitted, "after the blast, he attempted to turn me, and when that failed, he decided to breed me."

"But you escaped, you killed that guard," Dutch said. "Bit more skillful than my escape, I did managed to light a few things on fire."

Myla smiled at her, "It's a horrid place."

She looked around, it seemed some of them were perplexed by her status, and others were confused. This made her think of her friend, the one that might just understand.

"Where is Setrakian?" Myla asked.

There was silence amongst them. Their somber state lead her to the quickest answer.

"He went out with Eichorst," Vasiliy said. "Damn brave, saved Gus's life."

Myla's hands wrung the arms of her chair as she looked at Lars.

Myla turned to him, eyes dark, as she contemplated wrapping her fingers around his throat.

"If you had done what I'd asked Setrakian would be alive."

"We didn't need him." Lars defended. "Sariel made that decision without you."

Myla felt anger radiate through her body. She had asked for Setrakian to be a part of their guild. They even knew where he was at the time, he would have helped their cause... but Sariel was too afraid of the old man.

”cowards...” she thought to herself.

"We could have used him!" Myla spat.

"That's not what they said!" Lars argued.

"This is impossible." Quinlan said, "I was in that blast... the ancients were killed."

"The blast destroyed their bodies, and left them so weak that it would have taken centuries for them to return If I hadn't found them."

"Why... why would you choose to look for them," Dutch asked. "Why would you help them!?"

"I never said anything about a choice, and I certainly never said I was helping them," Myla said looking back at Lars. Being in the wrong place at the wrong time had never been so true.

 

_You know that's not how we found you._

_We told you._

_We were waiting for you._

 

"You said you found them," Quinlan stated questioning her earlier statement.

"They chose me." Myla said, "I more or less... stumbled upon them."

"Why choose you?" Ephraim asked.

"Strigoi have altered human anatomy for thousands of years Doctor, surely you could understand why I, a woman who had undergone countless hormone injections could seem such a suitable host."

"... they chose you because you had a womb." Ephraim understood now. "The injections... the insemination - you were primed with stem cells - like some sort of - "

"- an experiment in a movie? A military super-solider disaster? " Myla asked, "That's for certain. I did help I was an accidental silver child living in Manhattan.”

She noted the distraught look on Vasiliy's face... it was on Quinlan's too. It pained her for them to see her like this. She had hoped they would never have to find out. The plan had been for the bomb to leave with her while they stayed in New York, unknowing that anyone but the Sun Hunters and Silver Children existed.

It was better for her to stay dead. They had already grieved for nine months, when she did finally have to die at least they would never know.

"The bomb... then you need it?" Vasiliy asked.

"I do," Myla said.

"Then we can work together on this, we can hunt the Master and find a way to save you."

"There is no way to save her." Quinlan wanted to say. He had already seen the white blood. Most of what made her body human had been replaced by whatever was convenient to the ancients.

Myla didn’t look hurt on the outside, only felt pain on the inside. Quinlan was right after all.

"What's the plan here?" Vasiliy asked.

"I'm going to use it to destroy something he holds more dear than that city." Myla smiled, "What we have planned is meant to finish them. To end it all.


	33. Reunion

Quinlan sat almost unaffected by what was said...

_... almost._

He had completely lost in thought as he recalled the last couple of days. Finding out Myla was even alive had been a shock. He recalled Vasiliy a few months prior, to coming back when the two of them had a serious discussion about never returning. Vasiliy had been drunk, most of it forgotten by morning. And when they had found out she was alive, he had been relieved the conversation had been forgotten. 

He had been prepared to drain Desai’s wife to find out where she was. 

He had been prepared to kill.

He had gone so far as to face the Master with a half-baked plan. 

Now he was staring at her from across the flames as she got up from her seat and left them all sitting there completely confused. And Quinlan dejected.

Did she no longer feel the same? Why had she never looked for them?

_Why had she never looked ...for him?_

Quinlan was angry now. Every part of him hurt now, not because he lost her anymore, but because perhaps she no longer loved him. In all his years and with the few women he’d felt love for, none of them had ever rejected him. This was new.

_He missed her. He missed the way she and Vasiliy would fight, the way she would talk about dance... he wasn’t so sure she was the same person anymore._

* * *

 

Myla, on the other hand, was sure of one thing. She did have a destiny, this was it. She had always just planed it to be easier if they weren’t going to be around.

As she walked to the abandoned gas station where the last of her army now resided, she hoped for an easy way to do this. Vasiliy had already offering to help, she knew her brother would if he fell far enough into this. But even with them here now, with Quinlan. It was becoming difficult.

They were becoming a burden. Suddenly her task felt impossible, ending it all... dying... it wasn’t what she wanted. 

She just wanted to be with him. But right now, she couldn’t even look at him. 

Luckily the look on Lance’s face said he wasn’t okay with them being here. Maybe he would make this easy for her after all. 

“Nice entrance earlier.” He said

“Not my intention,” Myla said.

“Look, we had to leave quickly, but this wasn’t the plan, having them here, you know that.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I promised my men could get you to the end. But this... this wasn’t what I promised them.”

“I know,” Myla said. “I didn’t expect Naeem to do what he did.” Guilt was clearly ridden on her face. Part of her knew if she had ignored Sariel, this could have been avoided. In a world already full of so much death, no one need be killing each other. 

“The men and women left... they're young. I don’t know if I can ask them to risk their lives. But if you tell your brother to leave. We’ll stand with you, but I can’t ask them to risk their lives with the people that attacked us.”

“I understand,” Myla said. Lance hadn’t expected her to be so easy going about letting her brother go. “It’s not how I wanted things to go either, it would have been easier without them here.”

“Then you know what to do.”

Myla nodded and turned away. Lars met her between the two camps.

“This isn’t-”

“-The plan. I’m well aware.” Myla said.

“What are we going to do?”

“Pick one. I guess.”

“You’re going to need more blood before we move out. You’re looking especially pale.”

“Then I’ll meet you,” Myla said. “Where’s Dandera?”

“Resting. She knows about Halima though, she was... relieved.”

“Good. Make sure she’s ready to leave, I still need her. Secure the cargo, the Bomb, and we’ll move out soon,”

“We meaning the silver children?” Lars asked.

“Who else would I mean?” she asked with a wavering tone.

Lars only looked at her before he turned to leave. 

Then she heard the voices.

 

_“It’s for the best. Send them away.”_

_“It’s a distraction.”_

_“Abomination.”_

_“He can’t help you now. We have one future. We need to meet the end.”_

_But... I love him._

_“Then save him.”_

_“Stop. Stop telling me that like you know it is all I want to hear.”_

_If this is going to be done-_

 

“Myla.”

His voice made her freeze. Sariel slipped away into the abyss, and then it was just her and him.

She turned around. Quinlan looked, somehow nervous. At least she secretly hoped he was. She hadn’t been alone with him since before the blast... she had thought about this moment every fucking hour she was in that hell hole facility. And after the ancients were bonded with her, she had lost all hope she would ever see him again. 

That would have been easier. Because how was he supposed to love her now? She couldn’t ask him to do that. He had tried to save her from the same fate.

“Hey,” she said, she could help but hide a smile. She was happy to see him, but he couldn’t know that. Not after what Lance said. Lance was right they should leave. 

“I overheard what they said, I am sorry things did not go as planned for you.”

Did he just apologize? Myla didn't quite think the words were in his vocabulary. But here he was, looking as handsome as ever, his black coat was bundled around him, his sword at his back. He was a true warrior, she could see that now. Before she saw him as a great fighter, a gladiator - but now he was a man fighting for a cause. 

Her cause. 

Nothing could ever beat that. But that was precisely why he couldn’t stay.

“It’s... okay you didn’t know,” Myla said quickly trying to get over the formalities and hope he wouldn’t say what she deserved. 

“We could have known.”

_Shit, here it comes._

“You deliberately left us out. You knew we were here.” Quinlan had begun to pace, some kind of agitated quirk she had never seen. He had always been so stoic and hard. “If I recall correctly I believe it was you that always fought for us to be a team, and now that we’ve become one, you want nothing to do with us.” 

“I take it my death was something you two bonded over,” Myla said.

“I count your brother amongst one of my few friends, but I can’t say I would never recommend the ancients as company.”

“We’ve gone over this. There’s no going back.”

“And you want to handle it on your own,” Quinlan said through clenched teeth.

“You sound a little like Vasiliy.” Truth be told, he sounded much more threatening that Vasiliy. She had hurt him. She could hear that in his voice. 

“You know as well as anyone my role in this... and you just like your brother falls into these shit plans...” he was getting angrier now, “...but you won’t come out of this smelling like roses. This is thousands of years of creation and destruction, this is-“

“I know exactly what this is Quinlan.” Myla paused looked directly into his eyes. “The funny thing about having someone older than you in my head is that I know. This may seem crazy to you, driving north, leaving the Master, taking your bomb.” Myla stepped forward with an intimidating gaze, ”But I’ve seen the world as you’ve seen it. I know the travesty man has caused, I know the pain you have felt, I know anger more than anything... but most importantly, I know how this ends, and it may come as a shock, but this doesn’t end with you.” Myla spat.

Quinlan looked at her as though she had just taken his whole world. She took the initiative to make it worse.

“How did you put it? ‘you felt good, you tasted good, but I did warn you?’”

She was sending him away. Just as Quinlan had once told Gus, the only way to save her was to send her away. 

Now she was doing the same to him. 

Quinlan heard his own words in his head. He couldn’t believe them, they were lies, his lies! 

Myla turned away to hide a tear running down her right cheek. The ache in her chest made her feel empty. “Beauty and love are fleeting...” she told him. “This is for the best.”

With that note, she looked back in Lar’s general direction. She could use a little food and a blood bag, if she was going to stand here and have to take this, she wasn’t going to last very long. The moonlight did allow Quinlan to see the tear streak across her face, and she could see the glare from his. Good. Maybe he would be angry enough to leave.

She turned to walk away, but Quinlan grabbed her arm. 

“We both know those words only stand for lies.”

“This time they don't,” Myla said curtly.

Quinlan’s grip grew tighter, “Don’t forget, I could easily match you now.” she said. “Let's not let any wounds go any deeper.”

Quinlan spun her around he could feel her strength, he could feel her fight him, but she was weakened, that was evident. And he wasn’t about to let her do this without him. In that brief moment where their bodies touched and their eyes met, Myla thought she would melt and give in. 

She wanted nothing more than to spend her last days with him. Just one last night. One more embrace. 

“It is not your destiny to-” he started to speak. Myla shook her head and interrupted.

“-It was never your destiny to begin wi-”

Then there was an explosion. 

The both of them looked towards the end of the parked caravan. The one fright truck carrying their coffins and Acenath had just flipped and erupted into flames.

If anything else was going to go wrong tonight it would. 

The two opposing teams met in the road, Silver Children standing across from Myla’s family, all of them staring at the blaze.

Myla sprinted towards the truck. 

_shit. shit. shit. shit._

* * *

_Dandera was a simple girl. Someone who had grown up and lived all in the same town. Her sister had been older than her, always besting her in some way. But being a part of the Silver Society had made her feel proud in her own way. Her father often told her he was proud of her, and that was enough for Dandera._

_She never thought she would actually take part in a ritual._

_She never thought it would have been this easy._

_When Myla said listen, Dandera had taken that advice all too seriously. Sariel was one voice, but Dandera being a keen listener and an observant girl, she had taken to spending time in the chambers that protected Acenath._

_Acenath had been a woman she had grown up admiring, her strength... her sacrifice. And whenever she spent time near her sarcophagi, she could hear her._

_Acenath would say sweet things just like her father had. She would tell her stories of the time before. She would tell her not to worry, and that everything would be fine._

_The drive had been short, Dandera had slept most of the day, and when night came, all she could hear was the terrible screams Acenath made from her sarcophagus._

_The rush to help was part of Dandera‘s good nature._

_That was what it was counting on._

_With some effort Dandera pulled away from the lid, traversing the contents of the sarcophagus they had brought with them. Her father had protected this box all his life, now Dandera was looking inside._

_The screaming had stopped almost as soon as the stale air was released. The smell of earth and decay hit her nostrils. That stench had brought her back to reality._

_But it was already too late._

_She felt the worm pierce her palm slithering in-between the bones of her hand and up her arm. She looked down at her hand, not knowing what to do, not knowing how to save them._  
___________

Myla reached the back of the truck. It was empty, at least it looked empty, but she had to know what was still inside. She launched herself forward, feeling Quinlan grab her and pull her back.

“The flames can still kill you.” He said sternly as if she were a child.

Myla found a nearby fire extinguisher and pulled the pin to douse the flames. Ignoring his most recent comment. The others began crowding around, no one really being able to see what had happened in the dark, it had been so sudden...

When the flames were clear, Myla entered the broken truck. Clearly, this had been the worst place to store the explosives. 

“Dandera!” she called out.

There was no answer.

Myla clicked on her flashlight, she couldn’t see anyone. She began moving some of the rubble at her feet. She gasped when she saw the lid to Acenath’s coffin, she shut her eyes and prayed the girl hadn’t been that stupid. 

When she moved the lid, there were the old mummified remains of what was once Acenath. Her arms were at her sides, and for a woman willingly buried alive she looked peaceful. Except for the small center of her chest, there was a hole broken through her sternum.

The explosion. This hadn’t been her idea... it had to have been his. 

Everyone feared what was inside this coffin. And it had been Myla’s and the Silver Children’s intentions to leave her in there until they reached their final destination. No one wanted to deal with a creature that had been locked away for a few thousand years. It would have been unpredictable, reckless, and even Sariel themselves told Myla to leave their brother in his cage.  
   
_Well, fuck._

This evenings bullshit was going to have to wait.

“Alright everybody, listen up.” Myla said exiting the truck, “Everything that could have gone wrong has. I understand that meant we lost some very good people, people you and I called friends. And I understand your reluctance to work with my family.”

Sariel was whining in her head, it was becoming unbearable to the point that Myla had to stop her speech to pinch her neck trying to alleviate a headache they were causing. 

“... But the worst has happened.” she managed to get out. “Dandera opened the coffin. There’s nothing inside, and no Dandera to be seen. If we don’t find her we could be looking at another thousand years of this. We could be looking at a world where the Master and the Partnership rule. We could even be looking at a retaliation worse than the Master himself... I don’t know about you but solitary confinement tends to make humans a little crazy. I’m not sure what it’ll do to a vampire trapped in a silver’s body.”

For the first time since she met him, Lars looked legitimately worried. 

And for the first time since Myla had accepted the worms, she was feeling psychical pain. But she stood tall and acted as though she were fine. 

“We spread out everybody!” Lance said, “Move quickly, the sooner we find her the less work that'll be.”

“She’ll likely stop at sunrise,” Myla said, “If we don’t find her soon, kick it into overdrive as soon as the sun comes up.”

“What about you? You may not be much help when the sun rises.” Lars said. 

“I’ll do my best,” Myla said before turning to face her few very confused friends.

“What the hell are we looking for? A girl?”

“Halima’s sister actually.” Myla tongued the back of her teeth. “She’s like me, but got manipulated into taking on a very dangerous sibling of the Master. If she gets very far... this plan is ruined. I’ll die. She’ll die, and there will be two Master’s in this world fighting for rule, or perhaps they end up working together - which is even worse.”

“Is she dangerous?” Dutch asked. 

“It's complicated, but for the next twenty-four hours, she’ll be fairly weak... After they bond, there’s no telling what he’ll get her to do.”

“Okay, and when we find her how do we?” Vasiliy asked.

“Just bring her back,” Myla said. “Don’t listen to anything she says, just bring her back.”

“I’m going to go out further, then work towards you guys,” Myla said. 

Lance nodded, 

“I’ll go with you,” Quinlan said. “Speed is an element which we both now possess, we will use that as an advantage.”

Myla nodded. She needed the help but she wasn’t looking forward to more arguing. 

Lars tossed Myla her weapon, it was scraped from the road after making her lazy landing. She glanced at Quinlan before they both took off into the night.

* * *

Suddenly the night sky and cool air reminded Quinlan of being out with Vasiliy. They had spent months together hunting and mourning.

Now here he was... with her.

“You think she’ll go back to the city?” Quinlan asked.

“I imagine after being stuck in a box for so many years, she might not know which way she’s going at all.”

They were atop a small mountain now. Below them, there was a small lake, a river, and a dirt road leading back to the highway.

With Myla behind him, it almost seemed as if the last nine months had never happened.

“I thought you were deceased.”

“Well, I meant to tell you, got a little sidetracked.”

“Did you, really?”

“I escaped. All I thought of was you.” Myla admitted, “I had to hide from the mongrels... and then I was put on a different path. Simple as that.”

“Simple. That’s a rather false statement don’t you think?”

“Look. I meant to finish this without you ever finding out. Then I would just be dead, you would have already mourned, and then it would just be over. No one would have to go through that pain a second time. But here we are.”

“So you’re fine with ending your life.”

“You were fine with ending yours.”

“And I seem to remember someone keen on reminding me my life meant something to them.”

Myla was silent. 

“There’s a farm down there.” Myla said, “few miles away maybe.”

“Don’t deflect, you owe me an answer.”

“I don’t owe you anything Quinlan, I -“

“You loved me. I don’t know if you still do, but you gave me a gift a long time ago, you told me I didn’t have to do this alone- that it could be done together.”

Myla took off toward the farm. She ran down the mountain, branches scraping at her face and arms. No sign of Dandera yet. But Quinlan was still behind her.

Myla stopped, so did Quinlan. 

“The soil is soft, she might come here to rest.”

Quinlan gave her an questionable glance.

“It helps the body cope with the foreign object. The soil makes the worm easier to take, the silver in the body can be... shocking to them at first.”

“You speak to them?” Quinlan asked. “But you don’t care to speak to me, about us, about your brother, or about how you were planning on sending us away before this girl disappeared.”

“It’s for the best.”

“I tried to push you away. I seem to remember you settling into my brain and convincing me that love was important.”

“What would you know about love?” She spat before entering the farmhouse. She kicked the door in, it was dark, dusty, deserted. 

She could hear that Quinlan had taken his time following her into the house. But eventually, she heard his footsteps.

She felt bad the moment she’d said it. She never wanted to hear that from him. She only wanted him to drop the subject. But now here he was, right behind her as she looked through the kitchen cupboards.

She felt his nose press against the back of her scalp, he inhaled. His hand made its way to her arm, and she relaxed. His head came down nestling itself into the crook of her neck. His breath sent gooseflesh down her back, and just before she leaned into him - she pulled away. 

She had forgotten how good it felt to have someone hold her. 

With wet eyes, Myla headed upstairs to find a good view of the farm. From the bedroom window, She could see the recently harvested rows. What had grown here? Who had lived here?

She heard Quinlan at the doorway again. “Didn’t you say you had a farm once?”

“Yes.” He said softly.

“Where did you see us?” Myla asked. “After killing him? Someplace like this?”

“With you?” He walked towards her, his heavy footsteps hit the floor one by one, “I saw us travel the world. You said it would make you happy - it was what you wanted.”

Wanted.

Myla turned around. She couldn’t help but sit in this house and wonder what they would have been. Definitely happy. She would have been happy.

But now she didn’t dare let herself get close to him again. But here he was, ten months ago the roles were reversed. Now here he was, making her weak in the knees, leaning down to kiss her. 

She wanted it to happen bad enough that she felt everything else slide away as she slid into his arms. These days she felt so lonely. For the last several months she had been heading down a path that lead to her death, and she had decided it wouldn’t be so bad to give in just a little. 

What was first a little became something more. The reunited lovers met each other with warm wet kisses, then came the nipping, the sucking, then their tongues were fighting for dominance over the other. Quinlan’s hands were roaming over parts of her body that had been neglected. Soon his hands gripped her ass and pulled her upwards. 

She was pinned between him and the wall and there was no one who could fight her on it. Sariel had been quiet ever since Quinlan had joined their little hunt, and Myla was grateful for that. 

But Quinlan was just grateful to have her in his arms again. For a time she meant everything to him. Then he lost her. Now to have her back it was like falling in love all over again. So he held her, he held her closely. He would never have stopped kissing her if it hadn’t been for her concerned gasp.

He’d not been paying attention to his grip, he had hurt her... he hadn’t meant to - oh.

Myla was reaching for the weapon that had fallen to the floor, Quinlan grasped his sword at his back just as the Striogi had entered the room. Both of them had managed to let that slip, They had snuck up the stairs and ambushed them. 

Myla’s spear caught itself, it retracted slowly, almost too slowly. She managed to get a dagger into the stinger of the first strigoi while her spear worked out its issues. Quinlan cut down the second. Myla’s spear began working and she managed to drive her speed through the gut of the other strigoi. It’s stinger never ejected, but its eyes did begin to glow red, and then he spoke.

“I’m coming for you. For my brother.” And as the master turned to Quinlan, and “lastly, for you, my son.”

Quinlan took his sword and beheaded the creature.   
   
“That... wasn’t supposed to happen until later,” Myla said.

“What are you referring to?”

“We have a strix in another truck... for contacting him,” Myla said with emphasis. “We wanted him to follow us. We need him for the end of this. But not I have a feeling he’s on his way here now.” 

 _Fuck_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are no excuses for being this late on a chapter. But... Life. Hope to finish this series soon. Thank you to all who are still reading. Special thanks to Patty, :)


	34. Frailty

“How long do you think we have?” Quinlan asked as he looked down at the dead strigoi.

“The sun won’t be up for several hours, but were still close enough to the fallout that it won’t slow him down.”

“He wouldn’t go without an army. And even his army would take some time to move.” Quinlan said.

“Right. So we find Dandera, and we haul ass back to the caravan.”

“What exactly is this plan of yours anyway?”

“We’re going to their birth site. It’s the only way it can be undone.” Myla said feeling a stirring in her chest. 

“His birth site? That was in the Lumen.”

“And the reason why the ancients never wanted it to fall into the wrong hands.”

Quinlan turned to look at her. And maybe for the first time, he saw what she had truly given him. Not just borrowed time, not just her love, but peace. She was giving him that.

His hand went to her face, he saw her hesitate, and he couldn’t blame her, after all, he had been in her shoes. It’s more painful to love when you know ahead of time you’re eventually going to lose it.

“We will do this. Together.” Quinlan said. “You... don’t have much time left.”

“No. Not much but borrowed time at this point.”

“You can’t take in blood?” He asked.

“Only from blood bags. But once they worms are gone, there won’t be any way to keep my body working. I won’t be able to produce my own blood, And I... can’t produce the white. Quinlan, I won’t survive when they-“

“I understand. They’re keeping you alive now.”

“This mission should be my own. Just let me-“ She said sullenly

“It is my destiny,” Quinlan interrupted. “You know it, I know it.”

“My love...” Myla cupped his face and tears began to slide down her face. She shook her head. “You were only ever meant to lead me to mine.”

She looked at the man who now was struggling to realize he was never needed to finish this. He was only ever meant to cross her path. He struggled to accept she was going to die, but he struggled to understand his death wasn’t necessary.

He felt his heart swell as her big eyes bore directly into his what had to be his soul and then he just knew. This was it. He was always going to lose her.

“No... no.” he pleaded shaking his own head now.

“It is the truth.”

“But, but I never said it - I never said I loved you, you had no reason to risk your life for me.”

‘You didn’t have to.” Myla whispered. “I always knew. That was why this choice was so easy.”

Quinlan cupped her cheek and kissed her passionately. He kissed her so hard, he was sure he was going to break her. But this wasn’t just her anymore, this was the means to an end. This was her destiny, and she was the strongest human he’d ever known.

Myla embraced Quinlan, relieved to know someone finally understood.

But now wasn’t the time or place for confessions or love-

 

_Oh._

 

She felt his hands slide around her waist into a firm grip. He was not easy to say no to. Not when his hands touched her and held her close for a kiss, as his tongue grazed her bottom lip.

“We don’t need much time,” Quinlan said breaking away from their kiss and pulling apart her belt buckle. “If the next few days involves us meeting our end, I don’t want to wait another second to be inside of you.”

She had become stronger these last nine months, but he was clearly still her weakness.

She kicked off her pants and shed her jacket. In a frenzy, she pulled off his coat and shirt. And he took off her shirt in a desperate need to feel skin on skin contact. She hooked her hand around his neck and pulled herself up to straddle his waist.

Then she was back against the wall and they continued their interrupted kiss.

They were both so warm now, but she could feel the hair on her arms standing on end when his lips found their way behind her ear... then down her neck. They had always been hungry for one another. Their first night together had been based entirely on need.

But this... this was something else.

She was becoming lost in the way her body was pulling him closer, her nails raked down the back of his skull as he pressed her against the wall. The way his hips were grinding into her was driving her mad. “I thought we were in a hurry?” She asked with a sly smile as she leaned against the wall to claw at his own belt buckle.

Once his pants were undone she managed to push them down a few inches until they fell around his knees. She noted a few new bullet holes as her eyes gazed down at him. It only reminded her how much time they’ve spent apart. And how much she needed him.

The only thing still in his way were her panties. With urgency on his mind, he only pulled them to the side so he could slip into her. When he did she let out a grunt. They locked eyes. He pulled out and back in slowly, as he watched her half-lidded gaze beg him to continue. She cupped his face bringing him in closer.

“You don’t have to be gentle.” She whispered before pulling his head to hears with her new strength. He felt her nibble at his lip pulling it between her teeth as he thrust into her with more force than he ever had before. She bit down. She broke the skin. He had made her ass break the drywall. They both liked it.

“More.” She demanded.

So he continued thrusting into her, each motion quickly bringing him to a release. He’d never been able to be this fast or this rough with someone and it was going to be over too quickly. He pressed his forehead to hers and looked down at their bodies. She was beautiful. And he loved her.

He had never meant for him to be this stricken, but now after losing her, he was ready to give up anything for more time with her here and now.

Maybe she didn’t have to die alone.

“I want you to promise we can do this together,” Quinlan whispered.

“We... uh- we are together.” She said slyly, as she pushed herself against him,

“No,” he whispered, “I don’t want to be without you again.”

Myla gasped unable to contain the pleasure building inside her. Their lovemaking had always been pleasurable, but as he whispered on her neck these sweet things she didn’t know if she could hold herself up.

Quinlan noted her slip in grip and fucked her further into the drywall.

  
“We...” he said in-between kisses, _“...we do this together.”_

Myla managed to moan a satisfied yes as she looked into Quinlan’s eyes. What he didn’t know was the muttered array of yeses were less of an agreement to his terms, and more of a vocalization of the pleasure she was experiencing.

He picked up the pace his hand went to her breast, mouth kissing her chest and collarbone she raked her nails across his back one last time before she pulled herself towards him. Every nerve convulsed and sang in ecstasy. Her grip was so tight around him he took three more greedy thrusts and met her release with one of his own.

Breathless and satisfied. The two of them stood motionless until they came down from their bliss. Their foreheads were pressed together, sticky with sweat.

She looked up at him, he helped her to the floor. They dressed quietly but quickly.

With clasped hands they both walked out of the house. Neither of them had managed to catch their breath to even speak. But once the night air hit their lungs, Quinlan sighed and kissed her deeply one more time. 

But he still couldn't bring himself to say those words. 

He was so afraid. So he pulled away and returned to the task at hand. 

"We should uh - keep looking," Myla said still breathless.

Quinlan nodded and finally let them separate.   
  
The night air felt cool to them. Normally neither of them noticed a particularly cold night, but with beads of sweat still clinging to the back of their neck... they felt a chill.

It was nice. 

“We’ve walked around the whole place, maybe we should head back towards everyone else,” Myla said.

“There’s one place we didn’t check.” Quinlan pointed.

Sure enough, masked in the shadows of the trees was a brown barn perhaps a hundred yards away.

“Good eye,” Myla said as she sprinted towards the barn.

The door was ajar, but those people back at the farmhouse had been turned for quite some time. And by the looks of it, this place had stayed vacant.

Except for one thing.

The walls were smeared in blood. _Fresh blood._

“Maybe they found something to feed on,” Myla said out loud.

Then they heard a scuffle and the wailing of a dying animal. It hit the stall door with a thud. Quinlan’s sword was drawn, buy Myla’s spear looked like it had finally given up. It wounded unsheathe itself anymore. She tried bringing it down with enough force to dislodge it, but it had no give. She looked at Quinlan who had already stepped in front of her. She watched his free hand slip around the back of his coat, revealing her long-lost sword.

The gift he had given her.

She took it gratefully, happy to feel the familiar handle in her hand. By the time the two of them rounded the gate she had her sword drawn. Although, it wasn’t strix. Dandera was standing atop a small deer trying to use her body weight To crush its neck.

She was covered in blood too.

“Dandera! Stop what are you doing!?”

The girl looked up, Myla’s flashlight illuminated her face. She had blood smeared around her mouth.

“I need blood!” She screamed.

Myla gagged as she watched Dandera lick her hands.

“You don’t have any way to take it in!” Myla shouted before she came back for a breath of air. “Don’t listen to him, listen to the other.”

“There is no other!” Dandera screamed.

“You know that’s not true-“

Dandera lunged at them angrily. Quinlan raised his sword, but Myla signaled for him to stop.

Dandera quickly tackled Myla to the floor. They wrestled, Myla’s sword falling to the floor next to her, Dandera was above her.

“There is no end,” Dandera whispered. “He will kill his brother. He will take reign.”

“No, he fucking won’t!” Myla said as she wrestled with Dandera. The scuffle managed to separate, Quinlan, pulling Myla back towards him, Dandera retreated to her deer carcass where she ripped the antler from its head. The terrifying look she gave worried the both of them.

“She can’t be killed,” Myla whispered full well knowing she couldn’t take on two more red worms. Being locked in a tomb for thousands of years had driven one to insanity. And that insanity had become persuasive to Dandera.

Dandera lunged at the both of them. Antler in her hand, they both separated. Quinlan was behind her, ready to force Dandera into submission. But she managed to clamor onto Myla, weapon in hand ready to bring her down.

Quinlan instinctively wanted to save her, he wanted to drive his sword right through the girl's heart. But Myla pulled her close, almost into a hug as Dandera met her body on the floor. Quinlan's swing missed the girl. Myla was trying to protect her, and the worms.

Neither of them was happy about the next few minutes.

As Dandera‘s chest met hers Myla felt the warm blood from the deer. It quickly seeped into her clothes as she held the girl to her. She had already told Quinlan her life was precious, but as Myla pulled the girl close to pacify her, she realized something was wrong.

The blood was... _pouring_.

After a moment of realization, Quinlan could smell the new blood. a negative. It was palpable.

Myla was able to sit up the girl's lifeless body as it crumpled against her spear. It had unsheathed during their scuffle. It had run itself through Dandera. Run right through her heart.

Myla pulled the spear from her chest tossing it aside.

Dandera was coughing... no choking on blood.

Myla’s heart sank. She cupped the girl's face Dandera was trying to apologize.

“No, sweet girl, you did just fine. Your family would be so proud.”

Dandera coughed. Blood spatted both their faces.

“Tell... tell Halima I forgive her,” Dandera said.

“I will. I will tell her.” Myla said looking back at Quinlan.

Dandera slipped away quickly, and more importantly... peacefully.

As Dandera’s lifeless body dropped into her arms Myla looked up at Quinlan. Myla wished he wouldn't have to see this. 

Myla pulled the retractable spear from her chest and tossed it aside. Quinlan looked upset... disturbed. But Myla had no other choice. One vessel to the next.

Myla took her old sword and reopened the same wound she had for Halima. It started to bleed a pretty pink color that only reminded Quinlan that the woman he had made love to an hour ago was still dying.

He’d believed for a moment they were back in that apartment ten months ago, she was his... she had filled the room with a sweet b positive scent mixed with pears and oil. He craved that scent. But now... her soap was different. She didn't eat. He blood was nearly gone.

His eyes opened wide as he watch what she had become.

Myla cut her arm in the same place she had used to release Halima. Then she lined the new opening up with Dandera's chest wound.

She felt Sariel’s sibling slithering quickly into her arm. Eager to meet it's siblings. The finally worm however was reluctant to leave the warm vessel it had just acquired. But it was either rest with it's siblings, or wait here in this god forsaken barn for an unsuspecting human to find it. It knew it has a better chance trying to control her - even with his brother's still at his side. 

She looked at Quinlan, her body was covered with Dandera’s blood. He pushed the girl's body away when he saw Myla’s face change to one of pain. 

The adjustment was a difficult one. She felt immediate pain as the worms coiled into her chest. Quinlan rushed to her side. 

“No... no!” Myla said pushing away his arm. “We have to bring her back.”

Quinlan nodded helping Myla to her feet. Myla pushed him back towards Dandera's body once more. He picked up the girl. She was light. Easy to carry. 

"You're struggling." Quinlan stated.

“I’ll be fine,” Myla said gathering her two weapons and making her way to the door. “We’re on a time schedule, let’s go.”

Quinlan followed Myla back towards the farmhouse. Myla was trying to be strong, trying to show him that show could handle all six of them. But it felt nearly impossible to breath.. she needed soil, she needed rest... 

No - she could make it back. She had to make it back.

"I could -"

Myla shook her head. 

"We're not leaving her and coming back later, she deserves better - "

"I only meant I could carry you too,"

Myla turned back, she shook her head, "I am fine!" she said snapping at Quinlan. She hadn't expected it to sound so mean.

"I'm sorry - I - I..." she began to say.

Myla collapsed after a few feet.

* * *

Quinlan carried back both bodies across his shoulders. The original conflict between the silver children and Myla’s family was set Apart from the clear and obvious tragedy of the death of the younger girl. Myla was still alive, but Dandera was not. Her sister, Halima, was lucky to outlive her.

The trucks had cleared out ammo and weapons to make space for Dandera's body. They had draped her bloody body in cloth and and stowed her away carefully. Myla was covered once again in the soil as they continued to figure out their next rational move.

All that could be decided was to move on.

Quinlan had obliged. So had the Silver Children. At least for the time being. But Quinlan had guessed with Dandera dead, and the Master on their heels, they didn’t plan to stick around much longer.

After a few hours of driving the sun had shown itself above the mountains. They reached another safe house, but they were only stopping for a few hours and then moving on again.

Quinlan had planned on hovering around the cargo of the truck until Vasiliy had asked him to go hunting. The blood Quinlan had needed did well in providing meat for those who still preferred protein to hemoglobin. Quinlan, however, was waiting for Myla to wake up. He missed her. He wanted to know she was okay.

Lars who was also waiting for Myla to wake up had told him feeding was more important right now. Quinlan had agreed only because he knew the stronger he was, the better he could protect her.

Quinlan had followed Vasiliy to a nearby spring where the Doctor had already washed his clothes, and so Ms. Velders. The displacement between the doctor, Dutch, and Vasiliy had grown uncomfortable. Quinlan had realized long ago that Gus had been one of Myla’s clients, but the jealousy no longer bothered him. Gus no longer knew Lavender. But Vasily did. As Vasiliy washed his clothes in the river, Quinlan had the sense to wash the dirt and blood that covered his face in the scuffle.

Not wanting to wait for his only shirt to dry, and stripped it off along with his coat. He looked at his reflection. Part of him used to be ashamed of how he looked, especially after a fight. It always had reminded him of how far from human he was.

Dutch had been the first to notice the scratches along Quinlan’s back. Having been quite the passionate lover herself, she recognized the angle of the nail marks. She giggled, unable to hold back her amusement.

Quinlan turned to look at her.

“Are those...” Vasiliy asked realizing now what Dutch had.

Quinlan healed quickly, but the scabbed nail scars down his back were obvious love marks.

“You didn’t,” Vasiliy said grossed out as Quinlan redressed.

Quinlan said nothing.

“you two snuck off didn't you?” Vasiliy asked.

Quinlan said nothing again.

“Nothing like a little tryst when your lives are at stake,” Dutch said with confidence.

“Odd time and place,” Vasiliy muttered to Dutch.

“I seem to remember a heated swimming pool that you were rather fond of,” Dutch said quickly.

Vasiliy glanced at the blonde, with her hair wet, and her makeup gone... he could remember that day very clearly.

“So does that mean you told her?” Dutch asked unabashedly.

Quinlan looked at her and down at the water. Vasiliy looked at Quinlan too.

“Not exactly,” Quinlan muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We more or less argued about what she’s planning to do.”

“Ah, and of course that... lead to... that.” Dutch said raising her eyebrows.

“It wasn’t exactly planned. The Strigoi that came found us quickly befell the Master's eye. That’s why we’re leaving.”

"Can we PLEASE change the subject?" Vasiliy begged.

“Isn’t that part of this? Getting him to follow us?” Ephraim asked, still eager to see his son.

“Yes. But, just not so closely.” Quinlan answered.

Quinlan looked at Vasiliy. They’re human assumptions still let them hope that there was a way they could end this without death. Vasiliy didn’t want to lose his sister again. Despite what had been said amongst the soldiers. It was clear what had been discussed between them.

Quinlan didn’t want to tell him he planned on going with her.

He didn’t want to tell his friend he was going to lose them both.

“It leaves little time to maneuver. Though apparently, they planned for that little problem.” Quinlan said.

“Then I guess we better get to finding that deer,” Vasiliy said. Quinlan nodded and returned his coat to his shoulders. He and Vasiliy left the group behind. Quinlan sensing a creature nearby.

“So... at least you two - made up?” Vasiliy said.

“We spoke, of many things. And she loves you and me more than I could have ever possibly fathomed.”

“Ever? I know she and I have had our differences, but I always knew she loved me. And our parents. To the point where she gave up what she wanted to care for them.”

“Well. She’s given up much now.” Quinlan said.

“You really think there’s no way to change her back? I know you said she has the white blood... but she doesn’t have a - you know. Thing.”

“She... has no way to take in new blood. That is how the ancients lived, strigoi live, how I live. Without a way to take in blood, her white cells will die, eventually... killing her.”

“So that’s really it then. Get her back, lose her?”

“I intend to go with her,” Quinlan said catching the deer in his gaze. He motioned for Vasiliy to be silent. “I won’t let her go through that alone.”

Vasiliy nodded. “Then neither will I.”

* * *

When Myla awoke she felt lighter. She didn't feel the tightness in her chest or the smothering effects of the soil on her face.  Instead she took in a deep breath, the air smelled sweet, like that of her mother's home made bread. No, she was dreaming.

Myla opened her eyes to find herself on a hill. Sitting next to her mother. Though her eyes were different. Each one a different color, one yellow, the other like Quinlan’s. 

“Liudmyla.” She said, still sounding like her mother. But something... was different. Myla couldn’t seem to speak. It was like somehow she wasn’t supposed to. “You are close now, so very close.” 

Myla felt her hand settle on her chest. She felt no worms. Just a mothers love. 

“I will see you soon, LuLu.” She smiled a warm smile. “You have as many eyes and as many tongues as there are men on earth.”

That last statement scared her. Something within her stirred and Myla awoke, pulling away the coffin lid and gasping for a fresh breath of air. 

All six parts of Sariel stirred in her chest. Even the angry one seemed to somehow fall in sync with the others, they had seen her dream.

* * *

 The deer had been cleaned and placed on the spit an hour ago. Finally, small skewers of meat were distributed amongst the others, Lars and Quinlan were able to take their fill of blood. While Myla rested Lars had hooked up the last remaining bag of human blood to her arm while she slept. Lars didn’t exactly feel like there were going to be many volunteers for more blood with everything that had happened the last two days.

He didn’t blame them. He only wished the silver children were more physically tied to their fate like he was. Lars couldn’t run from this. But they could, and they knew that.

He was startled when Myla stepped out of the truck much earlier than planned. Even with the sun still up and the minimal amount of rest, here she was. The blood had been washed from her face, and she adorned a change of clothes.

“How is it?” Lars asked.

“Uncomfortable,” Myla answered. “More uncomfortable than I could have imagined. They seem to know what’s... coming.”

“And your strength?” He asked.

“It will get us there.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t expend excess energy,” Lars said with a thicker disdain in his voice than before.

“Maybe you should keep out of my head.”

“I’m not in your head, they’re in mine.”

“Well. They haven’t had much to say since their rebellious little brother joined the party.”

“They’re still afraid of him. All their trust was left with you. Now your family is here. Dandera is dead. And you saw what happened to her. Who’s to say you won’t get distracted and blow his plan to hell?”

“Because. It’s... it’s not what you think.”

“Then what is it?” Lance asked as he appeared from behind the truck's tires. He looked sad, solemn. 

Myla and Lars turned to look at him.

“You know, Halima I could be upset at. She chose to turn on her own people, but Dandera - she was a good kid. She made this choice to help, and what? She gets slaughtered in some barn thousands of miles from her home?”

“Lance she couldn't handle it - it wasn't her fault.“

“You know... I watched them both grow up, and I can’t watch more of these kids die.”

“I know,” Myla stated. “You should go. The end of this road is just ahead, and to ensure they’re safe enough away from the blast site... you should turn back now.”

“Really? Just like that?”

“You’re not bound to me. You were all dedicated to something your ancestors set in motion. As far as I'm concerned, you've done your part.”

“And I suppose they will be accompanying you?”

“It’s as good a time as any to realize they're stubborn enough to follow me anywhere. Even my own death.”

Myla turned back to glance at the fire. She felt sad that she no longer felt hungry. The smell of cooked meat should have had her drooling. But perhaps being so close to the lakes made a part of her understand that something as simple as eating was behind her.

At that moment she glanced at the few people surrounding the fire, and she was relieved they were still here. They were the very last part of what still made her human.

 


	35. Self-Sacrifice

The sunset just to their left as they drove on through the late evening. At least they could stop up ahead and get some rest. Myla had taken several rest periods the last few days, but only because her body forced her to.

Everyone else had little to no rest. They were running on empty.

“So just like that you’re gonna let us help?” Vasiliy asked.

“Lance is doing me one last favor. But yeah. If you promise not to let it get weird.”

“Get weird? How do you think this is gonna go?”

“Maybe like that time I took that stinger for you? And we shared a glass together? I don’t know Vas. Just... I love you. I’ve been trying to save the world for you. You know... something you woulda done for me.”

Vasiliy was driving the larger of the two trucks down the road, taking directions from Myla. It had been the first time they had been alone. Quinlan was with the others at Myla’s request. Vasiliy had begun scolding her as he often did the moment they had pulled out. And for the first time in their relationship, Myla didn’t fight him on it.

Eventually, Vasiliy had let off some steam and envied her calm demeanor as she sat there listening.

He eventually decided to let her talk.

“I had a dream, about Mom, telling me this was almost over. It felt... right.” Myla said. Silence fell between them once again.

“But those guys in your chest... they uh don’t much care for us,” Vasiliy said questioning the validity of her statement.

“Yeah, well they don’t understand love. It scared them. You were a wild card. They thought I might run away - abandon the mission.” Myla signed and relaxed in her chair. The other night had nearly been unbearable.

She had watched the sunset with apprehension, Sariel was always louder at night.  LShe didn’t know what would await her tonight - but after that dream, something had changed.

“Those things... don’t understand love?” Vasiliy asked, “Make sense n’ all.”

“They’re creatures with many rules, I have a feeling they’ve been around for most of human life.”

“They’ve been around all that time and learned nothing about humans?”

‘Well, the Master did. The connections he creates are based on some of our greatest weaknesses.” Myla said.

Vasiliy looked at her and back at the road, waiting for her to finish.

“Love,” Myla said.

“Speaking of...” Vasiliy asked raising his eyebrow.

“Oh no, we’re not going there,” Myla said shaking her head and shifting in her seat.

“Come on. You can’t keep that a secret any longer. I’ve heard enough about you two and Dutch’s little smirky comments... and believe me he was no fun to be stuck without in North Dakota. Always grumpy and sad wearing that stupid shirt. I can’t tell you how many nights we stayed up talking about you wishing you were still alive.”

Myla bit back a smile as she thought of Quinlan and her brother bonding.

“I - don’t know what to say. He saved my life. I felt something for the guy. And things just sort of fell into place after that. I forgot... you know how it goes. How you’re not even thinking about love, and then it happens... all at once.”

“Just like that?” Vasiliy asked.

“Just like that,” Myla said smirking.

“I can’t blame you I guess. After a few months, I liked the guy too.” Vasiliy admitted over a grumble.

“He’s pretty great when you get past all the brooding,” Myla said casually.

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“Hey, same goes with you,” Myla said punching his shoulder, happy the conversation was going well. She had expected it, in all honesty, to go very, very badly.

“Tell that to Dutch,” Vasiliy said.

“That you’re great? I think she already knows that.” Myla said.

“Yeah well, she thinks one too many people are great.”

“What? The Doc?” Myla asked. Vasiliy’s jaw visibly tightened. “That guy will pretty much sleep with anything.”

“It’s not just the doc-”

“Oh please, did you not like that girl at Redford? What’s her name? The sergeant.”

“She was a Captain. So.. sure. Yeah.”

“Wasn’t that right after Dutch left you?”

“Yeah.”

“So you wasted no time moving on, big brother.”

Vasiliy sat Quietly. It wasn’t just Kate, there was Charlotte too. Maybe after thinking about it, he could admit that he had been running from Dutch ever since she’d left him for a woman she was already in love with. Why wouldn’t Dutch run from him if he was trying to get away from her?

“Just... forgive her. She’s good for you. And I won’t be around forever.”

“Don’t make jokes like that,” Vasiliy said as he finally pulled into their final stop. He turned off the engine and watched as Lars drove the van with Vasiliy’s nuke further up the road.

“Where’s he going?” Vasiliy asked.

“The Master is after us. Can’t very well leave it out in the open.”

Vasiliy shut off the engine and looked back at his sister. Her face was stoic and he envied her. He wished he could be the one to end this. After all, he only ever wanted to protect her.

“Just promise me you’ll let him help?” Vasiliy asked. “I guess if I know you weren’t alone in all this, maybe -“

“Vas. We’ll fight together. But no ones dying that don’t need to. Got it? Especially the kid. Don’t let his issues get in the way of Ephraim taking him home. The kid might fight him, but when the white wears off he’ll come back.”

Vasiliy only nodded, realizing he would see Zach soon they would be fighting soon.

The two of them climbed down from the truck and opened up the back. Anything unnecessary had been tossed. Leaving nothing but weapons and ammo.

Ephraim had stuck around knowing the Master was his best chance to still fight for Zach. But Vasiliy was surprised that even Roman had stuck around, he had come too far and invested too much for a soldier to just leave the battle to someone else.

“We’ll eventually need to get the Master to the blast site. When he gets close enough these hills will be crawling with Strigoi. You will need to be ready to kill them.”

“And when you kill the master?” Dutch asked.

“We all know how easy they are to pick off when the Master lost his head. This shouldn’t be any different.”

Dutch looked at Vasiliy and Quinlan, hoping to use discretion.

“No love, what about you? How’s this all end?”

“Me... and the blast site. With the Master. There won’t be anything left of me. After it goes off... uh, it’s just up to you guys.”

Everyone in the group looked around at the others, still quiet.

“I will be there as well. I can fight him. Give Myla the time she needs to detonate the bomb.” Quinlan said.

Myla looked at Quinlan and gave him a small smile and a nod.

“Okay, Master check, bomb... check,” Dutch said as she loaded her bag with a few clips of ammo.

“What about my son? Do you think Zach would have come with him?” Ephraim asked.

“Yes Eph, I never met your son, but from what I understood he was grooming him.”

‘Grooming?”

“When it came time for the ancients to take on new bodies, they often chose younger individuals, ones they could train to be strong, condition to think like them.”

“Zach’s already turned on us once,” Ephraim said looking defeated.

“I will imagine he will return to a similar version of himself once the white is out of his system.”

Ephraim had an appalled look on his face when he thought of Zach and the Master... but even he too loaded clips into his bag taking a longer range rifle.

“Where do we go from here?” Vasiliy asked.

“There’s a couple good sniper nests, someone can be a lookout, radio in numbers and positions. It’s probably best to pair up, watch each other’s back.”

“So you and Quinlan love,” Dutch said.

“Dutch, maybe you take Vasiliy’s back, make sure he doesn’t use too many explosives.”

“Got it, Love.”

“Gus, Roman, Eph, you would have to be out front lines.”

“Okay, we can do that,” Roman said loading two smaller pistols into his bags.

“Do me a favor and don’t die,” Myla told them rather simply.

“My uh - Son though. I’ll follow him when I see him. I can’t promise I’ll stay in the same place.”

“I don’t expect you to,” Myla said looking the doctor squarely in the eyes for the first time since their brief awkward encounter. “It’s why any of us are doing this. For the people we love.”

The doctor nodded and went back in inspecting the new weapon.

An awkward silence fell across the group while they tried not to think about the end. It was the end of this journey, the end of her life, and perhaps even there’s if they weren’t careful.

“Hey, uh,” Ephraim said pulling out an opened bottle of vodka. The bottle was about two thirds full. The cap tightly secured. “I haven’t had a drink for nine months now. I suppose I was carrying this around... not letting myself have a drink until I found Zach. But now seems as good a time as any.”

Myla smiled having only just been thinking about the similar memory with her brother.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Myla said full well knowing the drink would do nothing for her. But the memory would still be nice.

“Here.” Myla walked to the bolted cabinets on the inside of the truck. Inside was what was left of stale cereal, canned fruit, and plastic ware. There were ornamental Dixie cups stacked within one another. The design of tulips that wrapped around the cup reminded her of what was to come if the night went as planned.

It was a silly thing to think. But She guessed In those final few hours of planning and waiting your mind tends to wander to those sorts of things.

The Doctor poured a small amount of the liquor into six cups. When he was done, Quinlan took one unexpectedly.

“Alright then,” Dutch said smiling. Myla hooked her arm around Quinlan’s back after picking up her own.

The seven of them held up their cups, waiting for someone to make a toast.

“Well. To Myla.” Vasiliy said the cup looked so small in his large hand.

“To those we’ve lost,” Ephraim said, thinking of his son, and Kelly.

“To those, we’ll save,” Myla added.

Everyone seemed to agree on that toast.

There was no clink as the paper cups met in the center of their circle. They all tossed back the liquid, grimacing as it burned. Myla smiled as Quinlan seemed to have a serious distaste for the liquor, more so than everyone else. But Myla smiled at the gesture none the less.  
______________________________________________________________

For the next couple hours, no one did much but pack their things and try to find something to eat. They had wandered through the tree line setting up lights and traps in hopes of having some kind of advantage in the fight.

As Lance’s last kindness, he radioed in the master's movements from a safe distance.

The Master had moved slowly during the day, but carefully. Slow was good. It meant they’d find everything hidden along the way.

At least everything he was meant to find.

Lars showed up a few hours into the night, covered in quite a bit of dirt. He had walked back from where he’d left the van. He too took the time to outfit his weapon.

Lars checked on Myla once while she and her brother were wiring some custom explosives. Myla had said she was fine. But the truth was she had begun to have a headache some time ago. That pain had settled in her chest, radiating heartburn throughout her whole body.

The worst part was she felt fear. Not just her own, but that of those trapped inside her. She had begun to feel a shortness of breath, and Lars had surprised her with another blood bag.

“Kept an extra stash as a backup,” Lars said. 

“Thanks, I could use it right about now,” she said.

Lars nodded and headed back to the truck. Myla handed her brother some metal bits and told him not to blow himself up.

Before she left the table Lance radioed in again. He gave them an estimate of two hours.

Myla turned back around she looked at her brother and tried not to show any fear. He just nodded and turned back to his work.  
______________________________________________________________

Quinlan had just come back from the furthest checkpoint. He had been quick so he would get back with plenty of time to spare. He was disheartened to see Myla gone.

“Midnight.” Vasiliy said, “we’ve got until midnight.”

Quinlan looked worried. Vasiliy nodded to the truck. Quinlan had let himself believe for a moment that Myla had left without him. But there she was in the back of the semi, her head leaning back against the cold metal. Discomfort clearly read on her face.

She had never got used to needles in her arm. Even when she was using. Even though that felt like a lifetime ago, she still hated the way steel felt under her flesh. It didn’t help that the new blood was sending the worms into a frenzy. They were strongest when she was strongest. And tonight they would need it.

The worms calmed when Quinlan stopped just in front of her. Myla registering their change, she opened her eyes to find that her pain subsided when she saw him.

Sariel always was much calmer when Quinlan was around. She didn’t know if they feared him, or found him to be an ally. Either way, she welcomed the break.

“I set those traps like you asked,” Quinlan said.  
  
“Thank you,” she responded with a relaxed look.

“You seemed... in pain. Just now.” He stated so matter of factly.

“It’s nothing. They... get worked up - the last ones still full of anger after being entombed for a few thousand years.”

“I thought you were doing well. Earlier I mean.”

“Well, the sun was up. They don’t do much when the sun’s up.” Myla said glancing to her right to see that the bag was almost finished. she cringed a little.

Quinlan fussed with some cotton on the table. He gently took her arm in his quickly removing the needle so she wouldn’t feel the sharp sting. Who knew something so small could hurt so much.

Quinlan dabbed at her arm, her blood was now a rosy pink color. It makes him miss the way she used to smell. Within a moment, the bleeding stopped and the wound was already closing over.

“I needed to tell you something before anything happens tonight.”

Myla laughed, “what could you possibly have to tell me?”

“That I’m in love with you,” Quinlan said.

Myla almost laughed again. She hadn’t expected it. She hadn’t needed it. But it took her breath away to hear it. She leaned in taking his face in her hand and pulling him into a sweet kiss.

She didn’t want it to be their last.

But it could be.

So she didn’t let it.

She let him kiss her back, and she pulled him closer and closer until his hands came around her. They could hear the others outside. They knew there was no time for anything more. That didn’t stop them from reaching for one another, desperately grabbing at their neck, collar, midsection... it was too hard to let the other go. Neither of them wanted to be the first.

“I love you,” Myla said between breaths.

Quinlan looked at her, desperate in some way to give his own life if only to save hers.

“In another life...” he whispered so softly, she almost didn’t hear it.

She smiled, tears welled in her eyes and she nodded.

“Yes, in another life.”

And she kissed him again. They stayed like that for as long as they could. They were eventually interrupted by Roman who wanted to go over the detonator for the bomb. Myla nodded and told Quinlan to make sure someone moved the getaway car and to check in on Vasiliy.   
  
They slipped away from each other both knowing such an intimate moment may not happen again. She felt the worms being to stir in her chest and this time she welcomed them, for the pain she felt from her own heart was masked by their anxiety.   
  
_______________________________________________________________

Lance had radioed only moments ago that the Master was almost upon them. It was sooner than expected, but the moonlight probably helped. The others were in position, but Vasiliy, Quinlan and Dutch were the last to head in.

She supposed he was waiting for some kind of goodbye.

Myla stood on her tip-toes to kiss her brother’s cheek. They held hands for a moment before Myla had to break the embrace.

“I’ll be seeing you,” she said quietly. It didn’t seem like goodbye was the right kind of thing to say to her brother. At least not in this situation. Dutch made her way over to give her a quick hug and a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Watch after him for me,” Myla said. Dutch nodded in compliance.

The first sounds of gunfire indicated they were needed, they pushed forward through the trees until a strigoi jumped out of the treeline.

Myla’s sword was at the ready, slicing through its neck. The creature fell back, writhing. Another several came after them. Dutch and Vasiliy began sending bullets into the group, both of them making efficient headshot. They took cover under a fortified structure they had spent the last several hours enhancing. Quinlan and Myla moved forward. 

The time spent fighting became lost to them. It was more or less a blur as Quinlan and Myla were fast. It almost didn't seem real as they cut down enemies side by side like that. The last several months had also allowed everyone else to improve their accuracy - it was paying off. They were doing well. No one was dead yet.

Off in the distance, a large explosion rang. It was one of Vasiliy’s traps.

Several UV floodlights illuminated in the distance, Myla looked away. She caught a glimpse of a pair of red glowing eyes behind them, the Master still nowhere in sight.

But he had to know where they were.

_What was he waiting for?_

With Quinlan at her back, they pushed forward. Cutting down whatever was in their way.

They pushed and pushed, white blood streaked their clothes, their weapons... Quinlan’s uzis and run out of ammo a while ago.

It seemed like the fighting was never going to end. Then they came across Ephraim who was lying on the ground. He’d taken a bullet.

There was another tactical strix team, _with weapons,_ being controlled by the master.

They took cover. Myla’s glance went to her brother. He was hidden behind a tree, the majority of his body covering Dutch’s smaller frame.

She looked back at Quinlan.

“Help him.” She said. Quinlan nodded, he quickly made his way to the boulder the doctor used to take cover. They locked eyes for a moment before Quinlan looked away to follow the doctor's instructions to stop the bleeding.

That was the last time she saw Quinlan.

She looked back to see Lars with his gun at his shoulder, he was indicating Myla should follow. He knew where the Master was hiding. So they ran.

The faster they found him, the faster this was over, no one else would have to get shot. But as she ran she felt herself getting further and further from her family as she made her way north.

She tried not to remember her brother crouched behind that tree, or the way Quinlan had tossed his gun aside to carry nothing but his bone handled sword.

She didn't think about Quinlan wanting to go with her. It didn't matter. She had always meant to do this alone.

In reality, she had only ever meant to save them anyway.

Lars lead her to the place he'd parked the van. 

"He was here," Lars said.

There was silence for a moment and then a deep chuckle.

"You thought I wouldn't find it?" Came a deeper version of Eldritch Palmer's voice. "You practically hid it in plain sight."

It was just him. Eichorst was long dead. No Zach, no Mongrels. He must've felt he could handle this on his own.

"You know I should thank you both, trapping my siblings was going to prove difficult to me, and you've gone and done the hardest part."

Then the Master charged them both. They separated, the Master came for Myla. She felt his body smash against hers - throwing her to the ground. the air was knocked out of her. His hand came to her throat, and Lars managed to throw him off her.

Myla rolled over to her knees and pushed herself up.

Then she kept running. It was after all, just part of the plan. 

At least she knew he would follow.

She kept running until her feet hit the water - she ran through the ravine, she kept running until the water was waist high, then she chose to swim.

She felt a twinge of pain sear through her chest and settle into her stomach. She felt herself sink below the surface. Her body screaming at the sense of loss. 

Lars was dead.

Myla swam to the surface and headed for the small island. She was almost there.

She took a moment to look back. But the Master had already caught up to her. His force pushed them both into the mud. Myla kicked and thrashed until she managed to toss his body weight off her. She clawed her way to the shore of the small island. Then she felt his right hand come across her back. The Master's nails cut through her jacket and shirt.

The connection of flesh felt strangely familiar. And even though she felt a slight stinging of pain, she felt more of a sense of calm.

"This ends now." the Master said as he threw himself forward. He was faster than her, she took out her sword in an attempt to block his impending blow. It protected her partially, but Myla was knocked back onto soft soil. She took in a shaky breath. But the Master was already atop her. His hands went to her throat and she tried to pry them apart. But then as she locked eyes with Eldritch Palmer’s shell - she felt her gaze go black.

“Brother.” they hissed.

The Master let out an evil chuckle.

“No, I am not you brother, I am your Master!.”

His hands squeezed, watching how Myla’s skin still managed to turn red even though she had become so pale.

She threw herself as hard as she could, her body still strong enough to hoist him off of her. He was surprised at her strength. He could smell the lack of blood in her body, usually silver hosts were wasted away to nothing.

“I see they favored you. Abused the white... I never thought i’d see them break their own rules.”

The Master came at her again. This time she swiped with her sword earlier than she thought she needed to. But that surprised him. She was able to strike him, he staggered backwards and she took the opportunity to knock him back again. She acted as quickly as she could - she jumped atop him, her feet planted firmly as she drove her sword through his chest and deep into he ground.

He smiled. He wrapped his hands around the blade, the silver during his hands but not inhibiting him at all.

Then Myla pulled the detonator out from her back pocket.

“Stupid girl, we found your bomb. It’s miles away from here. You think I would be stupid enough to chase after you without deactivating it?”

Myla let out a small ‘ha.’

It was simple.

Now it was her turn to smile.

“Doesn’t this place look familiar to you? No? I suppose it has changed after many, many years...”

“It doesn’t matter that you've brought me here! You cannot defeat me!”

Myla lifted the plastic safety cover off the detonator.

“I took me a while to find a second bomb.” Myla said hovering her thumb over the button “I never thought the Egyptian government to have one. And I certainly never expected my own brother to have the other.”

The Master looked now at their feet.

The overturned soil... it was from _digging_. The large mound in the center of the small island clearly looked out of place.

It was a damn trap. And this human had bested him.

Myla’s time spent listening to Sariel had paid off. They had told her exactly what their brother would do, what he would look for and what would give him enough peace of mind to chase after the bait.

Lars had been kind enough to bury the bomb for her. And give his life so she could get here.

Now that the plan had worked - Myla expected to press the button, and finally end it. But the Master was reaching up to fight and do what he could to pry it away from her. Then she felt her stomach flip and bile rise in her throat. Without being able to control anything, she fell to her knees, at the Master’s side... surprise read on his face as she vomited a sea of white. The red worms stood out as they landed on the Master, each one of them slithering toward his face. Disappearing through a nostril or eye socket.

She was doubled over, waiting for it to end, and finally once they had all left her, she felt her mortality return to her, and she gave in. She fell beside the Master, detonator still clutched tightly in her palm.

And then she pressed the button.


	36. Self-Sacrifice II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rekindling of lost souls.

_Theme: (LP - Song: Muddy Waters)_

Ephraim leaned on Quinlan’s shoulder as the made their way back towards the rendezvous. They had expected to get rushed, and now they were all making their way behind the line of traps Quinlan had set. They’d just passed the red spray paint marking the ground when Quinlan noticed Myla was no longer next to him. He got the doctor to safety and turned around expecting to see her behind him.

Several grenades went off now that they were behind the safe zone. Dirt and rocks flew everywhere, but when the dust settled, she was still nowhere to be seen.

“Myla!” He called out, Vasiliy seemed to notice, the others were occupied checking each other for worms.

Vasiliy mouthed the word “go.” If Myla was gone that meant it was time to pack up in the getaway car and haul ass.

“We’ve got this.” Came next from Vasiliy. Quinlan realized his ears were ringing from the blast. He couldn’t hear a thing, only read Vasiliy’s lips. Dutch was doubled over in pain, Vasiliy’s feet stumbled as he came to her aid. Vasiliy didn’t see the Mongrel that had made its way behind their safe zone.

Quinlan ducked, his sword was at the ready, he cut down one strigoi in his path, another came at him from the side. He threw his sword leaving him weaponless. The blade stuck in the aggressor's throat keeping its stinger from escaping its mouth. The soldier wouldn’t bother him anymore, but the mongrel was a different story.

Quinlan jumped, his only weapon left was his hands, he took the mongrel by the throat and strangled it for as long as he could. After several seconds Vasiliy recognized the threat and brought his piece of rebar through the creature’s eye. The creature writhed in pain. It’s stamina still pushing through the suffocation and Vasiliy’s attack. Quinlan’s hands managed to push upwards and snap the creatures neck. It didn’t die quickly, but Quinlan’s quick paralysis made the creature no longer a threat.

Vasiliy’s hand outstretched toward Quinlan. Vasiliy heard his sword, received from the now dead Strigoi. Quinlan took it.

The adrenaline-fueled them both to help their comrades off the ground. Dutch had suffered some broken ribs, the others, only minor scrapes, and bruises. Quinlan cut a clear path through the brush while keeping those perusing them at bay.

He had to at least see them out of this mess. Looking for Myla would be next, but if he allowed them to just die, what would all of this be for anyway?

They made it into the car without much trouble. Vasiliy was adamant about making sure everyone was in the car before he headed for the driver's seat. Both he and Quinlan were met with three strigoi on the opposite side of the vehicle, Quinlan didn’t even hesitate. What had been second nature to him for so long was now met with anger. He sliced his sword with such force it cut through the hood of the car. Two more strikes and the three strigoi were headless at his feet. His breath was heavy and shallow. He was scared, he was upset, he didn’t want to lose anybody.

“Go, go now!” Quinlan shouted.

Vasiliy took the time to pull Quinlan back towards him. A firm grip pulled Quinlan out of the furthest corners of his mind. He looked at Vasiliy, puzzled.

“Come with us,” Vasiliy said.

Quinlan could feel his fate slipping away every moment he wasn’t with her. In his panic he knew... this was his end - she was always meant to be at his end. If he wasn't with her, what good could he do?

He couldn’t leave her.

Quinlan pulled his arm from Vasiliy’s grasp.

“She needs me.” Was all he said before darting off into the woods.

He kept his sword drawn. Branches caught his face, it didn’t slow him down. She was out there he had to get to her.

And to him.

But when he stumbled upon Lars’s body, he began to panic. The marks down his chest had to have come from the master, he didn’t know if she was even still alive. The Master would do anything to stop her and what she carried. His mind flashed to various forms of torture. Then he thought of that skeleton that had been entombed. What if he got to her... what if he buried her six feet deep to suffer and die a slow and agonizing death?

They were supposed to do this together. A quick death.

End it all.

the trail only lead further North. There was no way to tell when Myla had disappeared, he had no idea how far behind he was.

He ran as fast as he could. He was surprised how quickly the terrain changed from the forest to open terrain. He could smell water, a large body of it. A small set of islands surrounded him.

He didn’t know which way to go.

* * *

 

Myla still held the detonator in her hand as she looked up at Palmer. She’d pressed down on the trigger but hadn’t had the guts to release it.

Now she knew she had hesitated, she had given him an opening.

No... she had given them an opening. She felt their absence to be painful, he body already betraying her, she felt starved, weak, and broken.

Is this what they had wanted all along? To be together? Had they expected her to be a coward?

Damn.

Her hands were shaking, she thought of leaving Quinlan behind. Now she regretted it. maybe it would have been easier to just die with him than to try and save his damn life. At least She wouldn’t be alone. She could imagine the look he would give her - the one telling her it was okay to let go.

Palmer reached out to her and she knew this was it - the Master had won. Betting on her fear since the beginning. She pulled her arms away, she was still on her knees and this left her neck and chest vulnerable to attack. She flinched when she felt his hand at her face, his palm cupped her cheek and when she opened her eyes. She was no longer kneeling at the river’s edge.

She had opened her eyes into a familiar place, it was her dream from the night before, she now knelt where her mother had stood, even the sunlight felt warm on her face.

She looked around, hoping to see her mother. Instead, she could only note The smell of the air, right down to the way the grass felt silky on her skin.

If this was heaven that would make sense.

She’d never been very religious, but this is a place she could see her mother ending up after her kind life. After all, it had just been a dream, but she had just been sitting there. Myla hoped this is where she was and where Myla could be allowed to stay.

_“It has been too long since I was whole.”_

Myla turned around, started to hear a soft voice.

Before Myla stood a woman, her skin was glistening, the sunlight reflecting off her creating a small halo-like effect. Her jaw was sharp, her cheekbones high, and her eyes... were like Quinlan’s. The pale blue iris’s stared, and then she smiled.

“Who... who are you - what is this? Am I dead? This - this is some kind of afterlife?”

“It is.” the woman said smiling, she outstretched her hand her long fingers wrapped around Myla’s palm. She felt warm.

“Is... it over? Is he dead?”

“No my dear, what you sought to destroy cannot die. But you did succeed in your task. You risked everything because of those you loved.”

“But if he can’t die how will they ever be safe? ... I didn’t save anyone,” Myla said tears began welling in her eyes. The woman pulled her close, she placed her warm hands on Myla’s shoulders and Myla felt warmth flow through her and down into her toes.

But her feet were so cold... cold because they were wet. She looked down, but she was completely dry.

“My child, you saved me.”

“Who... are you - I don’t know who you are!” Myla’s hands started to shake, she knew she had to be dead.

“You saw my gaze many times... and you and I shared a body for quite some time -”

“Sariel...?” Myla asked furrowing her brow. She was so confused.

“Surprised?” she said giving a small chuckle. “Well now, thanks to you I can reclaim my real name... my heavenly name, Ozryel.”

Myla’s eyes crossed over the woman’s face so many times, like any moment she would recognize her face.

“How are you so... beautiful?” Myla asked, a tear escaping her eyes at her admission.

“Some say I have four faces, and four thousand wings... or that I have as many eyes and as many tongues as there are men on earth.”

“The - the lumen, said something like that - the... eyes! The drawings of all those eyes, and... wings you-” Myla looked behind Ozryrel’s form, she saw brown feathered wings protruding from Ozryel’s shoulders. They were so long and so big, Myla’s jaw dropped in awe.

“I have been many people during my time on earth. I have learned what my father meant to teach me. I see now that coveting his gift to mankind was wrong, and thank’s to you... my sins can be forgiven.”

“Your sins? Where... where even are we?”

“A place I was always very fond of. A very long time ago I broke the rules, my father punished me for it. In fact, he destroyed me for it and imprisoned me on Earth in the land of a thousand lakes. Surrounded by water, the perfect cage.”

Myla went to blink and then her world changed back to reality. She wasn’t dead yet, she was back on the island where they had just been fighting, she could feel the detonator in her hand, the water in her boots, the smell of algae.

“And you my daughter, have set me free. I so rarely get to grant life... after my own lifetime of stealing it.”

Palmer’s hands slipped around the detonator, carefully taking it from Myla’s grasp while keeping the detonator pressed. The man’s face had softened, she could still see the woman she was just talking to even through the shell she still wore.

“When you wake up, you’re going to need him.” Palmer’s face gave a kind smile, “Make sure you take care of him.”

“When... what?” Myla asked looking up at her... more confused than when they had started talking.

That’s when she felt Ozryel's palm thrust against her chest. Caught in the force she found herself thrown back. Myla felt herself crash against the water’s surface, the cold shocked her into squeezing her eyes shut and tucking her body inwards. She protected herself from branches and rocks underneath the rushing water until she found a steady current and rose to the surface.

Myla failed around, never having been a good swimmer, she latched onto a log stuck near the shore.

She caught the flash of detonation, and she dove back under the water. A flash of flame cascading over the water, a whirlwind overtook her, spinning her, sweeping her away in a rush of waves.

* * *

 

When Quinlan looked off into the distance, the small light getting brighter and brighter until it erupted into a familiar cloud.

He was too late.

Quinlan managed to shout “No!” before the blast overcame him and sent him back into the trees. The scene was so familiar... the blast, the Master... her.

All gone.

But just like that, he felt it.

The master was gone. No longer a part of him.

He felt the heat rushing over him, and he let it take him. He went limp and fell into the blast like it was a wave of water. The force pushing him against a tree after tree, until finally, one came in contact with is head. At least the blackness was a relief. He finally thought he was dead.

For him... it was the end. Just like it had been foretold.

Just like he had wanted.

* * *

As Quinlan lay unconscious, with a bleeding brow, Vasiliy had gone out to look for him. Hazmat suits at the ready, he ventured off to try and find any remains of his brother or sister.

Vasiliy eventually did find him, Quinlan's body was strewn across a jagged rock, no sword or guns in sight, just him, in torn clothes and a defeated look on his face.

It had been an entire day since the blast had gone off, Vasiliy had argued for a chance to look for them. Vasiliy had known it was unlikely, but Quinlan had only been gone a short while before the bomb detonated, Vas knew it was possible Quinlan was still alive, and he would have never forgiven himself if he hadn't tried.

With a quick radio to Dutch, they brought in the rescue vehicle as close as they could while Vasiliy tried to find a way to carry him. It wasn’t going smoothly for him, but it did manage to rouse Quinlan enough to make him realize he was still here... on this world.

Vasiliy pulled the man to his feet, he acted as if he were made from stone even though he was clearly conscious. Quinlan didn’t believe it was real. So he didn’t care to take a single step.

“I know. Just help me out here brother, we’ve gotta get you outta here.”

And in the recognition of the word brother, Quinlan looked up at Vasiliy. There wasn’t a more clear look Quinlan could give to the man... it was pain.

Vasiliy didn’t know what he had seen. He didn’t know if Quinlan had made it to her - or if she had gone on her own. Either way, the longer they stayed out here, the longer they all risked their lives or growing an extra arm.

“We have to go now, Q.” Vasiliy pleaded.

Quinlan nodded and put one foot in front of the other and took one painful step. It didn't get any easier for him to walk away from those woods - but for some reason, he just didn't want to stay here.

He didn’t know how long they walked, only that he ended up in the back seat of a car. He looked down at his clothes, most of them ruined, but most important of all - his favorite shirt was nearly in shreds. It was ruined.

No, her shirt was ruined.

 

And Quinlan for the first time in his life shed a tear.

His head fell into his hands as they drove away. The red sky in their rearview mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I took way too long to get this out -- life excuses... yada yada. I'm so sorry, I will keep chipping away at it! Q has not been forgotten!!


	37. Hope

The sun had come up, they were far enough from the blast now that the sun was only partially obscured. Quinlan wondered if the sunlight would still bother him when the sky cleared up. 

He wondered what he would do when there was no more strigoi to hunt. No more cities to save. 

Even now as Dutch’s hand reached out to touch Vasiliy’s leg he wondered how long it would be before they replaced him. Myla had clearly fixed something between the two. They no longer fought and were always somehow touching one another. 

Comfort. They were comforting each other and Quinlan was jealous of that feeling. 

They stopped for gas at an abandoned station. They siphoned what the could to keep going. Vasiliy was frustrated there wasn’t more. He was eager to get back to the city and get as far away from this place as possible.

“It’s okay Fet. There will be other stops.”

Fet was leaning back against the car as the siphon emptied into the reservoir. He crossed his arms and sighed. He’d been driving as fast as he could, but now that they’d stopped he was finding it hard to get going again. 

A few weeks was all it took for Myla to worm her way back into his life. Then he lost her. Even though he’d already been through it, somehow it was more painful the second time around.

“Look I’ll check the trunk. Maybe there’s some petrol back there,”

“You think we’re that lucky?”

“It is one of the silver children’s vehicles,” Quinlan interrupted. “They were obviously well prepared.”

“Oh, and we weren’t?” Vasiliy asked.

“I didn’t say that - I mentioned they were prepared -“

“If we were more prepared you think there was something we could’ve done? Huh?”

This baiting tactic was familiar to Quinlan. The two of them had fought a lot after they had lost her the first time.

Quinlan crossed his arms and stayed silent.

“Don’t do that Q, don’t look away from me when I’m talking to you!” Vasiliy yelled.

“Just like North Dakota, it took you a while to realize I had lost her too -” Quinlan spat back.

Vasiliy’s hands smacked the top of the car, “you think I don’t know that?!”

Vasiliy and Quinlan squared up on another. This time, however, Vasiliy hadn’t been drinking through the night. But the pain was as good an intoxicant as any. Quinlan knew that better than anyone. Quinlan waited for the first punch when it came, Quinlan pushed Vasiliy against the car pinning his arms down. For him it was effortless, his body was still as strong as ever, just racked with pain and regret.

Though he knew he could command his muscles to break the bones in Vasiliy’s arms, Quinlan didn’t know what the point would be. So he let go and let Vasiliy push him away.

“Both of you quit it now!” Dutch shouted moving herself to stand between them. “She wouldn’t want this both of you know that.”

Both men turned away from her, there was just something about being angry that made it easier to be sad. Neither expected it to be easy in the coming months. Vasiliy knew Quinlan was right, it would be North Dakota all over again.

They both looked at each other.

It wasn’t worth it.

They were their only family left now. There was no more Charlotte. No more Myla. No Setrakian.  

“You find anything back there?” Vasiliy asked as he scratched the back of his neck. 

“One gas can, half full. And a map. And a damn shirt for you.” Dutch said tossing the shirt at Quinlan. He switched shirts quickly while the two of them unfolded the map at the hood of the car. 

“These were their fail-safes.” Dutch said, “how we got out of the city, where they hid their gear, safe houses...”

“You’re not actually suggesting we go to one of these places are you?” Vasiliy said.

“We did kill many of their comrades.” Quinlan said, “we didn’t exactly leave ourselves on good terms.”

“Yeah, baldy is right, probably safe to avoid them on the way back.”

“Yeah, but we did see this thing to the end. The Master is gone, the least they could do was give us some gas to get back to the city. I can even ask them, you two did most of the killing anyway.”

“That’s not a good idea Dutch -“

“Well, I don’t care. The sooner we get back to the city the better, I can’t imagine how many of them are still in the streets...”

“Damn. Yeah.” Vasiliy said thinking of the prisoners kept by the Partnership. If they didn’t act soon, people could starve.

“We’ve got a nuclear war to clean up Vasiliy, they know that too, I think they’ll understand.”

Vasiliy nodded. “Yeah, yeah.”

“I’ll ask, and we’ll walk away if anything goes bad,” Dutch said.

“We should tell the Doctor where to meet us,” Quinlan said.

“Yeah yeah, I found batteries too, for the radio,” Dutch added.

“He have any luck?” Vasiliy asked.

“No, before the radio died, he said he still hadn’t found Zach,” Dutch said. “Poor Eph,”

“He’ll find him,” Vasiliy said. “If he wasn’t at the battle, he was stashed somewhere safe. Without the Master, he’ll come back. He won’t be under the white anymore, you know like Myla said.” Vasiliy said.

“The white is... addictive when introduced to a human body. Vasiliy is right... when the effects subside for Zach the first person he’ll look for is his father.”

Dutch nodded her head. Her hands fumbled as she put the new batteries in the radio. Vasiliy put his arm around her and she instantly broke into tears.

“I’m - I’m sorr-” she said through muffled words before Vasiliy pressed her tightly into his chest. Dutch cried for a good minute into his shirt.

Vasiliy looked at Quinlan who was not clearly affects by her sadness, but Vasiliy knew him better.

“She’s been strong for the both of us,” Vasiliy said. “I’m sorry for before.”

Quinlan nodded and walked away, giving them both a moment. He chose not to listen to the things Vasiliy told Dutch. He imagined they were bittersweet and kind. But it didn’t matter to him. He could accept this as his family. But when it came down to it, he hated himself for not being there for Myla, most of all, he hated that she was right - two thousand years of prophecy and he was never meant to kill the Master at all.

He felt unfulfilled. Like more than just his purpose was robbed from him.

He knew could honor Myla by seeing this through. He could make sure Vasiliy was safe. Kill the remaining Strigoi. But after that was all said and done he would succumb to his human side.

He would end his own life.

* * *

The car ride barely made it another fifty miles. The city wasn’t far, but this outpost was their only hope in finding enough fuel to get them home. It was an old radio station. A large satellite in the back, several garages in the front, and of course, armed guards.

Vasiliy parked on the opposite side of the road.

“I don’t like this,” Vasiliy said. “I say we find an alternative.”

“Vas. You heard the car when you put it in park, it was practically groaning for you to turn it off.”

“I bet it would turn back on if I gassed the pedal,” Vasiliy said.

“I’m going in,” Dutch said rolling her eyes. Vasiliy reached for the keys but Dutch pulled them from the ignition and threw them in the cup holder. She looked at the both of them with a look that shamed them for being afraid of a couple men with guns. “You know the signal, if anything seems bad, I’ll give it.”

Then she stepped out of the car.

“I don’t like this,” Vasiliy said.  
“She’s completely capable.”

“But what if, you know, they still hold that grudge?”

“Ms. Velder’s will be fine. Should their grade continue, they will simply turn her away. It’s simple logic.”

“But we don’t know them... Myla did.”

“Then that is precisely why we should trust them to a certain extent,” Quinlan said. “She knew how to trust those that were worthy.”

“You don't doubt her for a second do you?” Vasiliy asked, remembering all the times he had doubted his sister's decisions.

“Never,” Quinlan said. “she surpassed my expectations of any human. She was... undoubtedly, the smartest...” Quinlan paused, both of them being sure to watch Dutch as she approached the guards at the door. “... the - the most....”

“Yeah, I know,” Vasiliy said. “She knew more than I ever did.”

“I was lucky to know her now.” Quinlan said, “The end of this was something I’d dreamt of for hundreds of years. She... gave me this gift. To be here now. To save everyone else.”

Maybe that was she had always meant to do. Quinlan couldn’t believe she’d wanted him to move on. To live a life like the one he’d had with her... like the one he’d come to love with Tasa. His human side was clawing at his heart. At this moment he missed the Master’s sway that brought him back to his feral side.

They both watched as the men at the door gave Dutch no trouble and let her inside their complex.

“Well here we go.” Vasiliy said. “She’s got ten minutes, then we go in there after her.”

* * *

 

“Can we help you?” a man asked as Dutch approached the door.

“I uh, we need some fuel,” Dutch said. “Just to get back to the city. Since it’s over now... we thought you might be willing to share some. And then we’ll be on our way.”

Both men looked at each other. The nodded, both of their faces were familiar to her. She didn’t assume that was a good thing.

“One of them is here,” they said into their radio.

“Send her in.” said an anonymous voice.

Dutch tentatively looked back at the car before walking into the building, the gas can was tucked at her side she entered the building. It wasn’t as dark as she thought it would be. Power clearly wasn’t a problem for them. She knew that this group could be a large assent in what was to come if she could convince them to help.

For now, just the fuel would have to be a start.

At the end of the hallways, she was met with a familiar face.

“Lance... right?” Dutch asked.

“That’s me.” Lance said, “good memory.”

“You worked closely with Myla, I uh - I made the connection.”

“She was... very important to our cause.” Lance said, “Time foretold of someone like her, I just never thought it would be in my lifetime.”

“So... you don’t mind helping us?” Dutch asked.

“No.” Lance said, “ What happened at the Olympian was unfortunate we... had never planned for you to show up, nor did we think Halima would... betray us like that.”

“We... if we had known - it would have been so different.” Dutch said. “we never knew... we just had the same goal as you and - we were fooled.”

“I know,” Lance said. “It was just not something I could do electing my men to fight with you. Most of them were boys. Their fathers had brought them into this sect with the intent of teaching them of what was to come... but many of them died before they got that chance.” Lance said.

Dutch and Lance came to the end of the hall. A large luncheon area could be seen, twenty or so men were eating their lunch, unknowing that they stood and watched. Dutched looked down to the end of the hall.

“Is... is that another bomb?!” she asked.

“It is,” Lance answered. “One we placed within your battle zone. It was Myla’s idea. Something to fool the Master into thinking that he’d found and disabled the only bomb we had.”

“But she had a second... there was always a second?” Dutch asked.

“She was smart that one. Thought of everything.” Lance said.

“She... she clearly was.” Dutch said, “I love her brother... I just wish I could have known her better.”

“About that...” Lance said. “We’ve been listening to your radio transitions, we were expecting you. We were wondering... is the Born still with you?”

“Why... why would you ask that?” Dutch said hesitantly. Perhaps they were going to offer her a trade. Gas for Quinlan's head.

“I think you’ll need to see for yourself,” Lance said.

Dutch looked at her watch, she was halfway through her time limit. But she agreed to follow Lance anyway.

“What do you need with Quinlan? Because he’s not for hire.” Dutch said sternly.

“Believe me, I understand that.” Lance said, “It more or less, a favor for an old friend.”

“what the hell are you-” Dutch was stopped midsentence when she saw what was behind the door. Lance had opened it slowly, she had expected it to be a trap or a room full of fuel. Not a hospital room. “What the hell?”

Dutch stepped in, glancing at her watch once more, she’d wasted another minute and a half.

But then she saw Myla.

“My God!!” she exclaimed. Dutch fell to the side of the bed. The room was small but filled with as much medical equipment as a hospital storage closet. “She’s alive!” Dutch’s hands went to Myla’s face. It was sunken like she as starving. She was pale too, she looked like she was on death’s door. “Where the hell did you find her?” Dutch asked.

“The river,” Lance said. “Mostly hypothermic, she’s nearly died four times since we’ve found her. We tried giving her our silver blood... but it seems the only thing that might save her could be the white. We don’t possess it, but the Born does.”

“Myla...?” Dutch whispered as she cupped her face. For a moment Dutch saw the rim of her blue eyes, then they shut completely. Dutch tried to rouse her.

“She’s pretty in and out of it.” Lance said, “all we’ve been able to grasp is that she needs him and that the worms are all gone.”

“Quinlan knows the Master’s gone, he could feel it when he left,” Dutch said.

“We thought he might.”

Dutch looked over her body. She looked like someone with a terminal illness.

“She’s... dying though,” Dutch said, tears welling in her eyes.

“Not if we inject her with the white. She could live a life if she had access to several injections a week.”

“She’s in love with Quinlan...” Dutch said as a matter of factly, “it’s like they were meant to meet. To fall in love.”

“To us, we viewed it as a problem.” Lance said, “The worms were unpredictable, and when she carried so many, we worried human emotion could lead us away from the objective.”

“Love is... unpredictable like that,” Dutch said.

“Then you understand,” Lance said. “We’ve confirmed she’s destroyed the target, but she’s dying, and if the Born-”

“He’s outside!” Dutch said looking at her watch, she had 56 seconds before the two of them stormed in. “I’ll go get him.” dutch came to her feet, she ran down the hallway leaving everything behind, they hadn’t come far from the entrance, but she knew her boys better than anyone that ten minutes was enough and they were ready with guns a minute and a half ago.

Dutch entered the sunlight, both of them standing at attention, she was running, and this triggered their instinct to protect.

They raised their guns expecting Dutch to dive into the car.

Instead, she stood with the building behind and put her hands up.

“NO! Don't!” she shouted.

Vasiliy and Quinlan were quick to lower their guns.

“You need to come inside!” Dutch said. She saw Vasiliy fiddle with the trigger on his gun. “It’s safe!” she said, “I promise, no one will hurt us.”

Dutch made her body wide to cover as much of the compound as she could.

“Why? What is it?” Vasiliy called out.

“It’s your sister.” Dutch said, “She’s dying, but she’d inside and she needs our help!”

Her admission had instilled distrust in both their hearts. Myla had been dead once before, and now the second time didn’t allow much room for hope.

Vasiliy was the first to drop his gun.

Quinlan followed second, but he was reluctant. They both followed Dutch inside. Quinlan fully expecting to be captured and tortured, but the possibility kept him taking each step down the corridor.

Dutch lead them to the same room she had been in just a few moments ago. It was even smaller now as they all crowded inside.

Both of them had a similar reaction to Myla lying in that bed. It almost didn’t look like her. Neither of them moved. They were either scared she'd disappear, or collapse into dust.

Quinlan went to her bedside first. He took her hand, her smell still familiar to him. It had changed much in the last several months, but there was no doubt that this was his Myla.

Same for Vasiliy. He’d recognized his sister on drugs, and off drugs - but she was always the spitting image of their mother no matter the extreme. This... this was clearly one of those extremes.

“Has she been awake?” Vasiliy asked.

“Apparently not often,” Dutch said. “They think Quinlan can keep her alive. She can’t make the White anymore, but he can.”

Quinlan looked up at Vasiliy, then at the others in the room. He didn’t even hesitate to ask, “what do you need?”

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before he was hooked up to a plasma machine and made to sit for an hour. For this stretch of time, he couldn’t see Myla, but Vasiliy came in to check on him from time to time.

“It’s crazy, right? We’re not crazy, we didn’t all die in that blast right?” Vasiliy asked.

“I guess not,” Quinlan said. He completely understood Vasiliy’s apprehension. It was all too surreal. Myla was breathing, sure, but neither of them had seen anything living about her. That bed was a deathbed and that was clear.

“But that’s her... in the other room,” Vasiliy said.

“Undoubtedly,” Quinlan said. He was saddened by her state. Her lively form was reduced to a pile of muscle, it pained him to see her in such a state, even if she was still alive.

Both of them tried to stifle their hope that she’d recover if this didn't work and they lost her... _again_ , they wouldn't know what to do with themselves.

But of course, they couldn’t help it. Both men wanted to see her again. It was bittersweet.

In the back of Quinlan's mind, all he could think about was how Myla had never intended to end up in this bed at all. Maybe she wasn't meant to be saved.

Quinlan snapped out of his negative thoughts just as Vasiliy mentioned, "She did survive the first blast and we doubted her, guess we shouldn't do that again." Vasiliy gave a low chuckle.

Quinlan gave a short smile. Vasiliy wasn't wrong. Maybe they should have more hope than they allowed themselves.

“You think this will help?” Vasiliy asked looking down at the machinery. 

“If she’s not too far gone...” Quinlan sighed, “it's likely our only chance."


	38. Chapter 38

Vasiliy was pacing back and forth. He’d left the room to get some air. He couldn’t bare to see that needle in his sister’s arm. He left to get some food, but never actually made it to the kitchens. Only to the end of the hall. Then he had been pacing ever since.

Dutch went to find him when he didn’t come back. She stopped his large pacing body and looked up at him.

“Hey, love, don’t worry it’s going to be all right.”

Vasiliy looked at the room and then back at her, he just shook his head.

“I can’t - I can’t do it again.” Vasiliy said. “I thought she died. You saw. You were there. Then for her to go to that place.”

“Yeah, Fet, I know. I was there. But she’s here now. An’ it’s all over.” She cupped her hands to his face. “This is better than we could have hoped for.” Vasiliy nodded and took comfort in her touch. “Look Fet, I’m sorry about everything.”

His hands circled around her wrists, thumbing for a pulse, happy Dutch had made it out unscathed.

“She’s got a fighting chance now.” Dutch said. “We just have to wait.”

“What about us?” he asked.

Dutch looked up and smiled at the man she had been fighting with these last few months.

“I’m sorry too. For everything.”

“Then we’ve got a fighting chance too.” Dutch said. She stood on her tip-toes and placed a gentle kiss on Vasiliy’s lips before reaching down and taking his hand. Together they went back into Myla’s room to wait for her improvement.

* * *

  
It had been several hours but Quinlan’s blood had been introduced into Myla’s bloodstream. No change had happened yet. Dutch and Vasiliy had fallen asleep in the room, Quinlan was still wide awake standing against the wall at her side. He’d never been so impatient waiting for something, he’d followed the Master for over a thousand years, that hadn’t bothered him. But right now, he would kill to speed up time.

It took another hour before he sensed any kind of change. A gradual warmth returned to her. Eventually she was less translucent, and more pale. He’d watched the white in her eyes for the last hour, but then he saw the familiar glance he’d fallen in love with. 

He eventually realized she was looking at him. There was a soft weak smile that she gave, and Quinlan scooted closer to her bedside.

“Hi...” she mumbled. She was groggy and tired. But she’d never been so happy to see him. She let him cup her head and she grasped onto his forearm pulling him closer. He leaned in and cradled the back of her head keeping her head from doing the most of the work.

“We thought you’d really be gone this time.” Quinlan said.

“Oh you know me, I’m good at surprises. At least you didn’t have to wait nine months to find out I was still alive.”

“Only a day,” he said, “it was still the longest day of my life yet.”

Myla looked at him, she couldn’t help but smile, she’d saved his life, and hers had been spared. She didn’t know what would come of the next few days, but she gestured for him to take the space in the bed next to her.

“I so tired,” she told him.

“I understand.” He said sitting down next to her and lying back. She curled in against him using him as an additional pillow. She breathed in deeply as she left herself drift off to sleep, and Quinlan quietly waited for her to wake again.

* * *

 

 

Twelve hours later she was awake, Quinlan was still beside her, of course completely awake. He helped her sit up. He offered her water and she tried drinking it. It didn’t go down as smoothly a she hoped. Perhaps it was just how it was supposed to be.

“Where’s Vas?” she asked him.

“The Doctor found his son. They’re outside trading some supplies. But they’re all fine.”

She nodded and did her best to try and stand.

“Is there a change of clothes?” she asked. Quinlan looked around the room, sorry that he hadn’t already thought of that. “I feel like I’ve burned through these clothes.”

“I’ll go and find you something.” Quinlan said. Myla nodded relived. She stood up finding her legs to be wobbly. She looked around at the medical equipment and realized she had been lucky. She hadn’t expected to live the moment she felt the river freeze her lungs and she went into shock.

The rest was still a bit fuzzy.

She heard the door open and she was ready to strip off her shirt until she realized it was Lance that had entered the room.

“Oh, hey.” she said.

“Didn’t expect to see you again.” he said. “you’re lucky we found you though.”

“I’m gathering that.” Myla said looking at a reflective tray to see a gash across her forehead. Though, no evidence of blood was found. Only a small smear of white.

“It is done then?”

“Done. Gone.” Myla said with certainty. For a spotty memory, somehow she knew that.

“Thats a relief.” he said. At least now his men that were killed hadn’t died in vain. “There’s probably a lot of work ahead of us. You plan on still fighting?”

“I uh - don’t see it any other way.” Myla said. “You planning on going back to New York?”

“Actually, we figured you and your... friend - could come with us. Seeing as it would be nice to put everyone’s homes back together.”

Quinlan entered the room holding a stack of folded clothing. He walked past Lance and put himself between the two of them.

“We’ll talk it over.” Myla said. Lance nodded and left the room, Quinlan looked at her with a questioning glance.

Myla rubbed her eyes eyes and waved away his questions with a hand gesture. She took the clothes with appreciation and Quinlan locked the door so they would have no more visitors. He helped her lift the shirt off her head and it was true, Myla was warm, with her body finally adjusting to the final state she was sweating, so Quinlan took the initiative to wipe down her shoulders and neck with a damp towel until she felt better.

He helped her dress in a paid of sweatpants and a black t-shirt that surprisingly seemed to small for her. Her hip bones stuck out, her collar bones prominent - whatever change she had experienced had finally taken it’s toll now that the worms were gone, and there was nothing left but abused human organs amidst Quinlan’s own blood.

Her pulled her against him and she wrapped her arms around him, both of them falling into the most comforting embrace they had ever experienced together.

It was in fact, over.

* * *

 

One Year Later

It was the first day they had returned home with clean swords. The stragglers were becoming harder and harder to find. Once the Master had left this world the remaining strigoi would fight at first, but quickly turned to retreat and now lay in hiding. It was like they wished to lay wait for a new master, but none would ever come. 

Myla had made Quinlan sure of that. 

She said she didn’t remember anything from the day of the blast. But as Quinlan sustained her with his life, she gradually remembered Sariel and eventually... Ozryel too. Some of her memories seemed so absurd she had to believe she had made some of them up. But it was so clear to her, so real.

It had been hard for Quinlan to come to understand his divine lineage. But alas, both of them were grateful for the gift Ozyrel left them. A life together. 

After leaving New York they had traveled to Europe, with many of the Silver Children who were returning home to Egypt. The Silver Children then took on the task of clearing out nearby African countries and the Middle East. Myla and Quinlan had a quick tour through Romania and Poland then they headed south, making their way through Italy.

Keeping his promise to her that they would see the world, while effectively tracking and hunting strigoi.

It wasn’t exactly romantic, but it was something to revel in. They no longer feared of what was to come, just happy to help rid the world of every last one of the Master’s children. And happy to do it together.

Now they were settled into a small apartment building in Rome.

Out of all the places he’d been in his life, this had been his favorite. It still smelled the same. It’s roots still sunk deep within the country’s soil reminding him of what he referred to as home. Though, now that he had traveled with her for quite some time, he’d come to realize that she was his home. 

Perhaps it was time to move on.

“Perhaps it’s time to see somewhere else?” Quinlan asked. Myla was looking down at their satellite cellular device. She wasn’t listening.

“He’ll call.” Quinlan said. “It’s only been a week since you last spoke.”

Myla set down the phone, but not before she tested the volume of the ringer. 

“I just like it when he calls.” Myla said, “It’s exciting, being an aunt.”

Quinlan leanded down to kiss her head. She was curled in a soft vinyl chair with large sweater pulled over her knees. 

“He’ll call.” he reassured her once more. “But in the meantime, should we discuss moving father south? Rumor is it that Greece still has islands that seed entire days of sunlight.”

“You want to leave?” she asked with a raised brow, “I thought you wanted to show me ancient rome?” she teased.

“I think I’ve seen enough.” Quinlan said, “after all, now is the time I have to make new memories.” he said. “Not dwindle on old ones.”

Myla smiled. Her attention finally pulled away from the cellular phone. She didn’t know why Quinlan was smiling the way he was. Since they had been in Rome, he had seemed racked with melancholy. It was good for the both of them to see where he’d become who he is today - but it was evident there were no more happy memories. He had tricked himself into thinking they were still there, and if he could go back to Rome unburdened, then he would feel the same. But it wasn’t true. 

If he had realized this earlier, before the Master was destroyed, there might not have been anything to keep him going. Luckily he had met Myla, and thought no such thought. She stood up, her body was thin now, two years ago she was muscular, and had a little extra thickness to her hips. But her time as a host had taken it’s toll, weathering her down to a simple frame. It had taken time for her body to look remotely healthy again, even then, Quinlan tried to give her as much white as he could spare.

These thoughts ran through his mind as she crawled across the bed to straddle his lap. But she was here, and was his. That was all that mattered. 

She leaned down placing a kiss on his lips that he welcomed.

In their travels it had been hard for them both to be as affectionate as they had liked. Combined with the exhaustion of donating his blood, and hunting strigoi, left them both pretty tired at the end of the day.

Both of them were still capable of incredible speeds and strength, but it tore through them too quickly. More often than not, one would be too tired for intimacy, and cuddle next to the other, falling asleep very quickly. There had been the occasional night where Myla had serviced him, or he’d taken care of her needs. But they hadn’t actually had sex in quite some time.

... he’d missed this.

Her sweater now covered just enough of her lower half that she was semi decent as she straddled his lap. Has his hands came to find that favorite place of his go grab onto and he realized she wasn’t wearing anything else underneath.

She felt his lips curl into a smile and she smiled back, a laugh breaking out between their kiss. 

“Something funny to you?” He asked.

“Tickles.” She mumbled giving him another kiss. He stopped circling with his thumb, the small ministration being what had caused her to giggle. He deepened the kiss further before sliding the sweater up her back and off her entirely.

His hands slipped up to her breasts, letting her take over as she seemed to enjoy undressing him at a glacial pace. It didn’t matter. He was enjoying every minute of it. He picked her up, adjusting her so she could lie back as he went to kiss her neck.

She arched into him as she asked “Greece?” she asked, “so soon?”

“Its been a while since we’ve seen a long day.”

“but we don’t like the sun.” she said smiling.

“Of course you do.” he said placing a kiss between her breasts, “You’ve loved every coastline we’ve seen, you say you like how warm the sun feels...”

“I like how warm you are...” she said, he placed a kiss on her navel, “I like how you feel.”

“When I do this?” he asked, she felt his fingers separate her folds, she was plenty ready for him.

“Mhmm.” she said.

“And this?” he asked, pressing a finger inside her.

He watched her bite her lip and nod her head. He came up to kiss her lips happily claiming her lips once again as he settled in-between her legs, a place he had missed dearly.

He slipped inside her easily, eagerly bringing his pelvis flush against hers. His chest began to purr as she exhaled deeply against his neck. He hooked her ankle around his hip, and she melted around him. His hand held both hers above her head while the other ran the length down her side giving her gooseflesh.

The building they were staying in was old, and as the bed moved, the floor creaked from underneath them, between that, and her labored breathing he was hearing a symphony of sounds he had grown proud of. He went to her collar bone, his teeth nipping at the flesh there, earning him a loud moan.

He sat up on his knees, taking both their joined hips into the air, he hooked his free hand behind her to secure her against him before he drove into her harder and harder - when she came unraveled beneath him he pulled her away from the bed and up against his chest. Both of them locked into a passionate kiss while she shuddered around him. A few more thrusts and he was emptied inside her. Both of them rolling away and panting breathlessly.

She rolled into the crook of his shoulder, “let’s not wait so long to do that next time.” she said.

“If someone wasn’t so quick to fall asleep...” he whispered in her ear. “We could do it every night.” he said smiling against her forehead. He gave her a quick kiss and then listened as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

——

He’d never seen this part of the world much. A sunny beach wasn’t exactly a place he’d find himself in any part of his lifetime. The island they had reached in Greece did see quite a bit of sunlight, but Myla had chosen to wait until sunset to go and see the water. She’s wanted Quinlan to come with her and not feel uncomfortable in such abrasive light.

This city had already been cleared of all strigoi, and their time here was more or less a vacation. Or perhaps a honeymoon.

He liked that idea.

As he sat there on the back porch under twinkling lights he watched her twirl around and smile. They were tied to one another, each one needing the other for various reasons. They were intact the only two souls alike on earth, therefore they were soulmates? Weren’t they?

That night she had even decided to wear a white dress to cover her bathing suit, sure the tradition of a ‘wedding’ was a bit foreign to him. After all, his first wife was given to him as property, they were never wed in some ceremonial way. But here in this beautiful place... with Myla looking like that - this was as traditional as he’d ever be.

They even danced for a short time on their balcony. Some radio stations were playing music once again, and Myla found a lovely local station that played slow songs that sang about love.

Vasiliy managed to abruptly ruin their third song when he called. The jarring ring was louder than the radio, and of course Myla practically sprinted to grab the cellular device. But Vasiliy was Quinlan’s family now too, and even he cared to hear about their well being from time to time. He just never worried as often as Myla did.

Due to some of the fertility drugs still in Dutch’s system. she had gotten pregnant rather by surprise. But Vasiliy and Myla had both been elated.

Dutch was due any day now.

“Hey hey, what’s the good news?” He heard her ask. “-really? Your joking, don’t be kidding with me, Vas!” 

Almost nine months to the dot. Quinlan realized, at least their baby was healthy. Last he’d heard Dutch was confined to their home and the doctors office due to the radiation still around the city. 

“How big?” She asked. “Okay... okay. Yeah, we’ll come see you soon. Okay, bye!”

Myla hung up the phone. “Can you believe it? Mom and baby doing fine, one elated daddy... all ten fingers and toes!”

He could tell she was pondering what the babe must look like.

“And?” Quinlan asked.

Myla’s smile grew, “a girl! it’s a girl,”

“I’d assume you’ll want to leave for New York then?” Quinlan asked.

“What do you think, in the next day or so?” she asked.

Quinlan placed a kiss on her forehead. “We can leave in the morning.”

Myla hugged him, she was sad to end their adventures on the other side of the world. But she was more eager to get home and see the newest addition to their family.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to stop this story here for now. I am clearly overworked and have no time to write. I’m going to work on some other fandoms, get back into the groove and maybe I can come back to this with a fresh head, and do some entirely new fics, maybe even extensions. Who knows. Thanks for reading, feel free to message me anytime!


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